Without My Apollo's Love - Version 2
by guineamania
Summary: "You don't believe in anything" the words that broke Grantaire's heart. Grantaire did not respond in the way Enjolras expected, which left the mighty Apollo seeking forgiveness. Will they draw closer or will they forever remain apart? Also in Book section!
1. Chapter 1

_**21/2/13**_

**Disclaimer – I am not Victor Hugo. So I own none of these characters**

**One point to make before I begin, the first names in this are not their real names. Enjolras and Grantaire are never called their first names as far as I can tell so I came up with my own. Ricard Enjolras and Nicholas Grantaire. I got Grantaire's name from another fic I read and enjoyed the irony so much. If anyone is interested: Ricard means Strong leader and Nicholas means People's Victory (Ahh the irony).**

**Without My Apollo's Favour**

Grantaire stumbled back into the flat he shared with Enjolras. Well, shared is an exaggeration, he was staying there until he found a place of his own. Alcohol remained lingering on his breath and the room swayed with an irregular rhythm. Tears streamed down his face while his heart shattered into millions of tiny fragments and pierced his insides. Enjolras had finally done it, pushed Grantaire over the edge into the abyss. Whispered comments, despaired sighs, pitiful looks; he could deal with all that but now it was too far. _"You don't believe in anything"_ the comment that broke Grantaire's world. "I believe in you … I believe in you Enjolras," Grantaire wept huddling leaning on the door. He didn't want a revolution but it was an excuse to spend to time with Enjolras, to help make his one love happy. That is all. Oh how that backfired …

He was no one, he was no one to Enjolras. He wished with all his heart they could go back to when they were young. When they were just best friends dreaming of better times; how he missed those days. Clumsily he pulled out a picture, worn from over use, and stroked it's sheen. Feuilly had found them a camera when they were fourteen and starting the Amis de ABC for real and insisted they all have a picture to remind them of the cause. Cameras were a rare thing but they had all learnt not to question Feuilly's methods. Enjolras was in the middle smiling with his arm wrapped round Combeferre's shoulders. Combeferre was laughing at the camera with his arm resting on Jehan's shoulder. Grantaire was knelt behind Combeferre and peering through the gap between Enjolras' head and Combeferre's, with a beaming grin. A tear dripped onto the picture and trickled down. He hurriedly folded it back up as his heart wrenched at the memory but his fumbling fingers dropped the precious piece of paper. He hurried reached for it and searched the floor in the darkness for what felt like his life line. He found the paper and clutched it in his trembling hand.

A searing pain shot through his palm as an old piece of glass cut into him. A red bead dropped onto the floor and splashed on the wood. Grantaire knew subconsciously but he should stop the bleeding but yet the pain felt so good. He caught a droplet in his hands and watched as the perfect form dissipated and ran off onto the floor. He was strangely fascinated by how life relied on such a fragile substance. The pain on his hand dulled and was soon replaced by the aches of his shattered heart and shredded self-esteem. Grantaire looked at the glass that lay in his shaking palm and found himself seeking the momentary comfort the cut gave him. Slowly he slid the glass along his palm again and the pain over rode his heart ache again. But unfortunately, like the high from a drug, every time he cut the period of mental relief was shorter than the one before.

The heartache and emotional pain sliced through his drunken stupor like it had never done before. The alcohol was to dull his emotions primarily but it also gave him an excuse for his feelings when he was in front of the others. But during this moment, Grantaire realised, the drink was an excuse for his unexplained emotions inside his own mind as well as out. He could not hide from the reality of his fluttering thoughts anymore. If it was anyone but Enjolras the comment would have bounced off him like it was never intended for him in the first place … but the god like Apollo's comments hurt him more than any words should be able to.

Cut after cut tore through his skin as if they were fatal tally marks. His arm was now cut to shreds but he could not stop. Black invaded his vision as the quantity of blood on the floor began to outweigh what actually remained inside his body. Grantaire automatically reached for his nearest bottle of Green Fairy but touch of the cool glass brought Enjolras' face back into his mind. _"You don't believe in anything winesack,"_ his hallucination hissed and the bottle went flying into the wall. If he was going to die, as he had now determined he would, then he would die as he had never been in life. He would die sober. As the black spread and spread, as did the blood, Grantaire fell back against the door and pain ricocheted through his already damaged mind and blood began seeping into his knotted ebony hair. The room began spinning and the floor rolled like a troubled ocean. Grantaire carefully unfolded the picture again and stared at it with the tears teaming down his face. As it all began drifting into a never ending blackness, the room lit up and all Grantaire could see was his Apollo. His Apollo shining in the light, smiling to him. Then the world vanished.

"I'm sorry Ferre but he was driving me insane. I really like him, I really do … but the thing I don't like is the drink," Enjolras sighed walking back to his apartment with Combeferre.

"I know … I don't like the drink either but you broke him back there. I just want you to be ready for him to have left or be angry with you when we return," Combeferre muttered supportingly.

"Is it bad that I hope he has left? I must admit I do feel really bad for what happened back there but why does he come if he does not believe?" Enjolras asked in exasperation.

"He comes for you Ricard," Combeferre muttered. "When we were young, he said we would always be together. I know that R still holds himself to that," he sighed and looked at Enjolras' shocked expression.

"I … I forgot," Enjolras whispered. "Ferre, what if I have pushed him away?" Enjolras replied desperately.

"I am sure he will forgive," Combeferre comforted. They drifted into silence until they reached Enjolras' door. He fumbled with the key but when it slid into the lock, the door was still open. Enjolras frowned at Combeferre, even when drunk out of his mind Grantaire always locked the door.

Enjolras slowly knocked on the open door. "Taire, you there?" he asked softly. He pushed open the door and was met with a small amount of resistance. He pushed a little harder. Often Grantaire fell asleep leaning on the door in his drunken state … nothing unusual there. He peered in and the first thing he saw was the smashed Green Fairy bottle. Anger was defiantly looking like the more and more probable outcome. "Taire," Enjolras murmured as he stepped inside. His foot splashed against the wood; Enjolras looked down expecting alcohol or even sick but he definatly didn't expect what he saw. Blood, still wet blood coated the floor. "Grantaire!" Enjolras shouted with more urgency. "Nicholas!" he shouted, the panic causing him to use Grantaire's much hated christian name. Enjolras pushed the door open fully and the limp blood coated body fell in his path.

**A/N****: So what do you think? This my first shot at writing something like this so any feedback is incredibly welcome. **

**Also would you like me to carry on writing this … I have so many ideas but I really don't want to ruin it? Pretty please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**25/2/13**_

**Disclaimer – Victor Hugo owns everything but alas I am not he!**

**Thank you so much for the support I have gained from you lovely people! I will reply to every review I have been sent at the beginning of each chapter!**

Brightleaf – Thank you for being my first reviewer! So glad you enjoyed the first chapter and I sincerely hope this one lives up to expectations

Audrey Lynne – Your wish has been granted and I hope you also enjoy this chapter

Guest – I have done! And I hope you like this as much as the last

S.B – Thank You and I know, Poor Taire no one ever appreciates his feelings!

Julliet116 – Thank you for your vote of confidence in my abilities! I really hope I don't mess this up either … fingers crossed

The Serene Dancer – I really do appreciate your support and enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 2**

"Grantaire," Enjolras whispered horsely. "Oh god Grantaire," he shouted with tears threating to spill from his usually cold eyes. A cry hitched in Enjolras' throat as he fell onto the blood soaked floor in front of his lifelong friend. "Ferre! You're a doctor help him," Enjolras pleaded and Combeferre snapped into action from behind him. Thank Lord for the small mercies that included Combeferre being on the way to a meeting with his college mentor, meaning that he had his medical bag with him. "Lift him onto his bed and find me some form of alcohol," Combeferre ordered in doctor mode. Enjolras carefully lifted Grantaire surprised by the unnatural lightness of the larger man. Deep crimson blood dripped ominously from his shredded arm and blood seeped into Enjolras' shirt, from his head, making it a deeper, threatening red. Tears welled up in Enjolras' eyes and his thoughts raced. _Did I do this? Is this all my fault? Oh God Grantaire … I'm sorry._ He tried to lay the unconscious drunkard on the bed gently but despite his best efforts, blood made a renewed effort to push out of the limp figure and began to flood the floor again. "Damn!" Enjolras cried trying to use a sheet to put pressure on the gashes that tore through Grantaire's arm until you could see a glimmer of white bone.

Combeferre took over staunching the crimson river and Enjolras went hunting for alcohol. "Who thought that finding an alcohol in winecask's residence would be so hard?" Enjolras exclaimed frantically throwing various items from his cupboards until he found a cleverly hidden bottle of Green Fairy and darted frantically to the drunkard's side. _Thank God for Grantaire's hidden stash._ Combeferre softly poured the alcohol onto the bandage and winced. "I am so sorry," he whispered and hurriedly pressed the bandage onto Grantaire's wound. Grantaire cried out in pure, unbridled agony and his back arched raising him off the bed.

"What are you doing to him?" Enjolras screamed trying to comfort the broken cynic while glaring at Combeferre.

"I am cleaning infection from the wound," he murmured wrapping the whole arm in layers of bandages, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the tears streaming down Grantaire's face. "I am so sorry Taire," he apologised. Enjolras held Grantaire's other hand and squeezed it gently, wanting to feel useful somehow. "This is my fault," Enjolras whispered holding the tears in, promising he would stay strong_ … what was I thinking saying things like that._

Combeferre finished wrapping the arm and bandaging up Grantaire's head and stepped out of the way slowly. "He's still breathing and should get out of this alive if we prevent any infection growing," Combeferre sighed, solemnly washing the blood off himself. Grantaire's chest was slowly rising and falling but the movement was hardly visible if you weren't desperately hunting for life signs. "But we should still keep an eye on him at all times," Combeferre explained. Combeferre then left for his meeting and Enjolras sat by the ghostly pale Parisian as if he was the marble statue Grantaire always accused him of being. Even that thought cause cries to hitch in his throat. After a couple of hours of this strage limbo like state, Enjolras could sit still no longer. The smell of blood overpowered the apartment and Enjolras couldn't think about anything with that constantly lingering in the back of his mind. He jumped to his feet and pulled out a bucket and cloth and set to work with a methodical efficiency. He checked on Grantaire every three minutes … on the minute and the floor was slowly being restored to its rightful colour.

Enjolras had worked his way to the door where the majority of blood was pooled together. He washed and scrubbed, washed and scrubbed; washing and scrubbing away his misery in a repetitive motion. He pushed the cloth along but it caught on a completely buried item. Reluctantly he pulled out the mysterious object and wiped of the almost dried blood coating it. The object was a thin worn piece of paper that has obviously been folded and opened and folded again numerous times. Enjolras knew that for most people a picture this worn would be an image of his true love or parents but … well … no one really knew Grantaire's history. Enjolras sat down with the piece still in his hand, almost forgotten. They had all been friends with Grantaire since he was seven but no one had actually ever met his family or known his history. If he was to die would there be any family to tell? Enjolras' heart sunk even lower at the disrespect they all had for Grantaire. Eventually, he remembered the piece of paper and slowly turned it over, almost dreading what he might see about Grantaire's life.

The sight that met him caused the tears to eventually fall freely down his usually stoic marble cheeks. In the place of a photo showing Grantaire's loved ones was the only photo of all the amis, they all had a copy. Enjolras had never realised how much the little group of misfits mattered to Grantaire, he had always assumed that the drink was the only thing Grantaire cared about. The blood had stained the paper a bright crimson but the faces and valued expressions still remained unchanged. He remembered that day with outstanding clarity but the thoughts caused him to sink into a greater pit of despair and horror.

"_Mes Amis, I have borrowed this painting device from some of my …acquaintances," Feuilly chuckled mischievously. Everyone laughed and swarmed round the new arrival._

"_We wish to remain ignorant of your methods Feuilly but what is this device?" Combeferre asked with a beaming smile. Everyone laughed as Feuilly stood it up on the three legs._

"_You press this and it does an automatic picture of whatever it is pointing at," he explained._

"_Let's get a group photo, all of the amis de ABC when we begin," Jehan exclaimed in unbridled joy. Everyone agreed except for one. _

"_We have more important things to be doing, mes amis. We should be spreading the word not playing with Feuilly's dubiously acquired trinkets," Enjolras muttered. Combeferre sauntered over to his best friend._

"_Just one of these pictures, Enjolras. We can use this to remind us all of the cause if we seem to falter in our belief," Combeferre exclaimed pushing him towards the crowd._

"_If do will you all stop staring at me like I just admitted to killing someone?" Enjolras moaned and everyone burst out laughing._

"_Yes we will!" Jehan laughed and the group pushed all the tables together and they crowded round in front of the strange contraption while Feuilly taught Molly the waitress how to work the box. Feuilly slid in and Grantaire spontaneously appeared leaning on Enjolras and Combeferre's shoulders as the box flashed and clicked signifying that it had worked its magic._

"_I will get it made," Feuilly exclaimed pulling out the film and packing up the box. Enjolras tried to stand up but Grantaire wouldn't move in his drunken stupor. He was talking to Combeferre but would not stop leaning on the grumpy blonde's shoulder. _

"_Move Grantaire!" Enjolras snapped and darted away and Grantaire fell onto the floor breaking one of the chairs. Grantaire moaned holding his head. Everyone assumed Grantaire was just his drunken self but until later no one realised the blood seeping into his ebony hair. _

"_Get up winecask," Enjolras moaned pushing past his body. Grantaire just moaned and tried unsuccessfully to sit up. Combeferre helped him stand up but Grantaire just wobbled and fell into a chair. "Why do you even come if you are going to sit around the whole time moaning?" Enjolras moaned pushing the tables back to their previous arrangement._

"_My head," Grantaire murmured._

"_You don't believe, you don't care. Why are you here? You don't contribute anything to our plight. Why don't you go drink elsewhere?" Enjolras snapped standing in front of Grantaire as the winecask stood up. "We don't need you," Enjolras shouted. In a moment of pure hurt and anger, Grantaire lashed out and punched the Apollo in the face before stumbling out of the café._

Enjolras thought back in a painful haze with more tears streaming down his face. He had felt so bad, so ashamed when he found out how hurt Grantaire had been. But their prides never let apologies occur … they both agreed silently to leave that heart-wrenching occurrence behind them. He never thought that the seemingly heartless Grantaire would treasure this little souvenir to remember a horrible day. Enjolras used the slightly damp cloth to wipe excess blood off what was now a precious artefact. In a strangely emotionless haze, he slowly stood up and trudged to his bedside making sure not to disturb the peacefully sleeping Grantaire. He pulled out an old revolutionary poster from an exquisite frame and carefully slid the prized picture into the frame and placed it by Grantaire's side gently and returned to his seat by the resting drunkard.

The revolutionary playing at nursemaid, inexorably began to drift asleep with his eyes flickering shut every few seconds before he shook himself awake. As he was drifting into slumber, an agonising cry erupted from next to him and he jumped to action. Grantaire was rolling in pain crying out at the ceiling with his eyes widely spread open. Some of the stitched on his arm reopened and Enjolras panicked while trying to hold him down but not cause his friend anymore pain than was vital. After what was approximately ten minutes, but felt like it could have easily been hours, Grantaire's struggles slowed and he was reduced to a shivering whimpering corpse like figure as the inevitable fever began to grab onto him with thin ghostly fingers. Enjolras tried to calm Grantaire down but found himself in a position he hadn't been in for years, he was entirely overwhelmed and helpless.

**A/N – Please, please, PLEASE review for me! I really need the support and really hope I am not murdering Grantaire and Enjolras' emotions and the flashback scenes!**

**Also thanks to my beta Ellie … she is the best and really helps with my confidence and writing ability as well as keeping me motivated with constant pestering of "**_**have you written any more yet? … well why not?" **_**Merci beaucoup mon ami!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**25/2/13**_

**Disclaimer – I am not Victor Hugo or else I would not be here to speak with you today**

**Thanks for all the support I have gained … I love you all so much!**

Juliet116 – Thank so much for reviewing. Personally I love Combeferre so even though he is

not a main character we will be seeing much from him. Enjie definatly has some

apologising to do, whether he'll accept it or not … that's a different chapter

entirely. Glad you don't think I have ruined it! Also there is a Version 2 because I

wasn't sure which category to put it in!

messed up stargazer – Thank you so much, I hope I do not disappoint …

Rosebud5 – Merci mon ami, I know I could hardly write that flashback! Poor boys …

Audrey Lynne – Thank you for your review mon ami! So glad you enjoy

S.B – Poor, poor Taire but luckily it won't be necessary for you to beat Enjolras up … yet

**Chapter 3**

"Grantaire, please calm down!" Enjolras begged lightly holding his friend onto the bed. They had both been awake all night with Grantaire having serious seizures and calling out in pain. Every cry chilled Enjolras to the bone and he tried his best to help the fading drunkard. The siezures never faded and Enjolras was losing the energy needed to maintain control. "Enj! You there?" Combeferre shouted stepping in the door slowly. Enjolras groaned to signify their position. Combeferre came running in and slid to a sudden halt by Grantaire's side. With practiced efficiency, the medical student pulled out a bottle with a horrible odour and held it to Grantaire's face. The frenzied winecask slowly stopped the frantic thrashing and sunk into a dark unconsciousness.

"What have you done?" Enjolras cried holding Grantaire.

"I have just knocked him unconscious … he is resting now," Combeferre muttered checking the unconscious man's vitals. His heart was fluttering uncontrollably but that was to be expected due to his condition. Grantaire's skin was a deathly pale and the sweat formed a glistening sheen that shimmered in the moonlight. His breath was a pained hiss that caught in his throat with a cough every single breath. It lay a familiar background rhythm that slightly subconsciously soothed Enjolras but was a frightening thought that those tentative breaths could stop any moment.

The room was silent and all that could be heard was the symphony created by both Enjolras' and Grantaire's breathing. Enjolras could not bring himself to move from his friend's side again. It was as if he was glued to the seat, unable to move even if he wished to. He had never thought about Grantaire before, they had been friends for fifteen years but he knew virtually nothing about the drunkard. They never went to Grantaire's house when they were young and they knew nothing of M and Mme Grantaire; what they looked like, what their personalities were … nothing. The guilt welled up in his heart and he swore to himself that when Grantaire got through his he would learn more about the drunkard and try to care more than he obviously did. He did not even know why Grantaire was laid there now.

Combeferre returned again in a few hours to check upon his latest patient. He stepped in to the dark, dingy room and sighed. "Enjolras … go to sleep," Combeferre murmured in exasperation. Enjolras was sat at Grantaire's bedside in the exact same position he had left the revolutionary in the visit before. Enjolras turned round slowly and Combeferre sighed again. Dark bags dropped under his eyes and the usual bright, energetic spark that always resided there was gone. His eyes were a dull grey blue and seemed unfocused when he stared. His normally pale pallor had dropped at least three shades and was not dissimilar to Grantaire's. Enjolras weakly shook his head before immediately returning his gaze to the feverish Grantaire. "You will make yourself ill doing this!" Combeferre exclaimed in despair. Enjolras did not respond. Combeferre frowned before kneeling next to Enjolras resting his hands on the revolutionary's quivering leg. "You cannot help Grantaire if you make yourself as ill as he is," Combeferre begged and Enjolras looked up. Combeferre sighed; it seemed that the only way Enjolras was going to listen was if it affected Grantaire.

"I can't leave him," Enjolras whispered hoarsely, his voice lacking the passion and power that made him their leader.

"I will watch over him for you," Combeferre promised softly while standing up. Reluctantly, Enjolras stood up to face Combeferre.

"Thank you," Enjolras whispered leaning on Combeferre. Enjolras curled up in an armchair in the corner of the room. Within seconds he was asleep.

Combeferre sunk into the recently vacated chair with his head in his hands. He was not trained for this. He was a medical student not a real doctor. Grantaire needed medical help and Enjolras needed sleep. Why did Enjolras have to be so suspicious of the medical profession, not all doctors worked for the government and wanted the revolution over. But there was no persuading the opinionated youth. Stress filled his mind and he felt the weight of the duo's survival on his shoulders. He checked Grantaire's bandages again, changing them and wincing at the depth of the self-inflicted tears. "Oh why Taire. Why'd you have to go and do this," Combeferre sighed. "Just get better mon ami," he groaned running a hand through this unruly blonde hair. Despite how everyone seemed to hate the winecask … the Café Musian would not be the same without his light hearted cynicism causing a brighter mood for a sometimes sombre gathering. "Just get better…" he repeated with tears welling in his eyes.

**A/N**** – Sorry for the short chapter but this was just a little filler and to show how Combeferre feels about this incident!**

**Also just to note in this fic for images of the trio: I am using Aaron tveit for Enjolras, Hadley Fraser for Grantaire and Killian Donnelly for Combeferre**

**Please please please review with stuff you want to see … character e.t.c and how much you all want to kill Enjolras!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**28/2/13**_

**Disclaimer – I own nowt!**

**Bonjour mes amis, thanks for the support I have received for this fanfiction**

Juliet116 – I know he is so sweet like that! Hadley Fraser is my favourite every Grantaire and I feel he just fits the part so naturally … And I am afraid it is later for Taire waking up! Sorry and all that.

Audrey Lynne – Thank you so much and I am afraid this chapter probably won't help you decide

**Warning!**** This chapter is highly emotionally straining and upsetting. Please, please, please don't stop reading when it gets incredibly sad because it gets a lot better near the end! … Also please do not kill me for this! It just came to me in an English Lesson and I just thought "Damn, that works too well" So enjoy!**

**Chapter 4**

Enjolras blinked his eyes open and stretched out. The position on the chair was not the most comfortable but at least he could think clearly after a long period of mind rest. All his joints clicked and he groaned as cramped muscles could finally move again. Once the sleep had slackened his firm hold on his mind, Enjolras looked around his room. Gloomy, overcast and silent; rain thrashed against the window in complete contrast to the blazing sunlight it was when he fell asleep. Combeferre was still sat by Grantaire's bedside but had his heand hung in his hands as his golden locks hid his expression. "Combeferre," Enjolras whispered slowly standing up and the medical student's shoulders tensed, almost in shock.  
"Enjolras," he whispered raising his head but still not looking at the revolutionary. "Enjolras," he hissed staring at the wall. This sudden change of mood shocked Enjolras to the core. The duo had always been best friends ... Combeferre had never spoken to him in that way before.  
"What is wrong mon ami?" Enjolras muttered, genuinely concerned.  
"You are what is wrong!" Combeferre snapped, suddenly facing Enjolras. He looked haggard, tired and red rimmed his usually joyful eyes. A scruffy beard lined his face and his cheeks were hollowed. Enjolras backed away in horror.  
"W, what?" He stammered as Combeferre stood up. The other boys joints clicked and cracked like Enjolras' did showing he had not moved in a long time.  
"You have been asleep for a whole week!" Combeferre snapped anger raging a storm in his eyes.

The blonde revolutionary gawped. A week; a whole seven day week. He knew that he was tired but surely not that tired. "I am sorry mon ami but I can take over the watch now, you need to sleep," Enjolras murmured apologetically. Combeferre's eyes were suddenly full of tears and it looked like he was going to burst.  
"Grantaire is dead!" He shouted with hate resonating in his voice. The room fell deathly silent, it was if the world had stopped as Enjolras drifted into shock. Grantaire couldn't be dead. Nicholas had to be alive. Combeferre's furious voice broke the silence. "Grantaire died a day ago, he awoke momentarily before he was hit with a seizure. We could not wake you! You wouldn't wake as he cried your name and began apologising to his dear Ricard. You left him alone in his final moments," Combeferre hissed threateningly. "You said we always be together ... Nicholas died horribly alone!" Combeferre cried and burst into floods of tears.

Every word Combeferre shouted was like another dagger piercing Enjolras' marble heart. He wasn't as emotionless as everyone imagined him to be, he was not a marble statue. Their leader could hurt as well. And he was certainly hurting now. He had left his friend to die alone and in pain ... He could never forgive himself. But yet he could not cry. He had no way of letting these poisonous emotions out of his shattered mind but to stare in shock at Grantaire's spiritless body. Grantaire was the one who looked like a marble statue. His eyes were resting closed and his face was a mask of indifference that the winecask had never been able to wear in life. For a moment, Enjolras could pretend that that was not his friend laid on the bed and it was some imposter pretending to be Grantaire. But the way his brown fringe hung down over his eyes and scarf hung askew round his neck brought Enjolras back to the definite conclusion. That could be no one else. Images flashed through his mind of the humorous ami making light of any situation. Like that time, Combeferre had accidentally broken one of his painting. Grantaire just smiled his little enchanting smile, where his lip slowly curled up and his eyes twinkled, and proceeded to smash the broken painting over his friend's head and laugh. Grantaire's laugh was always infectious and could cheer Enjolras up every time he was feeling down. That laugh he would never hear again. Another dagger inside.

He could not rid his mind if the image of Grantaire smiling and flicking his fringe away from those crystal eyes. He screwed his eyes shut and tears trailed down his cheeks. "Why did you have to be so harsh to him? Then this would have never happened! We loved him even if you didn't!" Combeferre shouted stood next to Enjolras. Enjolras cried but could not find any words to describe and express his grief. "It is all your fault!" he shouted and stormed out of the room. The air felt thick and heavy weighing down on his troubled soul. His mind just could not comprehend that the unsinkable Grantaire was the man laid as still as stone in front of him. But yet it was. He could stop the flashes of times he had been overly critical of the jolly cynic.

The door flung open and Combeferre stood in the door way with a woman Enjolras didn't recognise. The unknown woman looked around and her eyes settled on Grantaire's limp body. A choked cry escaped her lips and she ran in and fell to the floor by his side. "My baby, my little Nic," she cried out holding his pale clammy hand rubbing his skin under her worn fingers. Grantaire's mother. Enjolras stepped backwards, the floorboard creaked and the woman's attention was attracted to the tall revolutionary. "You!" she shouted with rage. "It was you who killed my Nicholas!" she screamed striding towards Enjolras. He never thought he could be so scared of a single short woman; he was wrong. He face was tear stained and her hands twitching with grief. "I, I, I," Enjolras stuttered as she drew closer. With one swift movement Mme Grantaire had smack Enjolras around the face and was storming back to her son's side. Enjolras rubbed his cheek in shock but could not form a witty retort that would have usually shot out of his mouth. "I, I didn't know," he muttered but the distraught woman paid no heed to his strained words.

After about ten minutes of strained silence with the only noise being the faint sobs from Mme Grantaire, Combeferre stepped into the room. "Adriene, you need to head home now," Combeferre whispered and Grantaire's mother cried onto his shoulder and he led her out of the room. Then it was just him and the empty shell that used to be Grantaire. That was when the emotions came. All the feelings he had locked inside himself poured out in a seemingly endless flurry and tears flowed like a moving tide. His sobs caught in his sore throat and the Enjolras we all know collapsed into an emotional heap. He fell back into the chair he had slept in, and cried and cried. The world faded as his mind was just a ball of grief.

"Enjolras, Enj," he heard Combeferre whisper in a more soothing tone, that the last moment they talked lacked. "It's alright stop crying," Combeferre added. This made Enjolras falter and stare up at his friend through tear filled eyes.

"Ferre," Enjolras hoarsely whispered.

"That's right it's me," Combeferre muttered hugging Enjolras.

"But, but," Enjolras stuttered, his mind unable to comprehend this change in character.

"Enj, you were just dreaming," Combeferre muttered, "… and Grantaire has woken up."

**A/N**** – Please don't hurt me! *raises chair in self-defence* if you kill me then there will be no more updates!**


	5. Chapter 5

_**6/3/13**_

**Disclaimer – I own nowt!**

**WOW! That last chapter was the most popular I have ever written ever … so you guys like emotionally scarring … interesting! It is gonna take a lot for me to be more emotional than that one! Challenge Accepted! Thanks to my friend Ellie for the constant pestering (I did it while you were gone you better be proud of me!) and my English teacher for the moral support knowing she likes my work! Also thanks to everyone that read and these review responses are going to take me a while …**

Anonymous – Well thanks a lot mesa mi *mock bow* and you know why I have to do it *sadistic laugh* … anyways thanks for reading and reviewing and I hope you like Chapter 5

Juliet116 – Thanks for your continued support it really gives me a really nice boost! And everything is fine for the moment this chapter is more of filler, full of cute fluff! Enjoy! Also I know, I had to find a cute nickname for Enjolras and it just fit.

From Rue with Love – I am so glad somebody noticed it was a dream! And what if the theory that if you pinch yourself you wake up is just a myth … hmm. Anyways hope you and your giraffe like the following chapter.

FromTheClouds – I am so glad you carried on … I was scared I would lose readers for that; hell, I almost lost my beta for that! Thank you so much *blushes* and I hope this was soon enough!

Guest - *slowly lowers chair to the ground* Thanks for the praise, it really makes my day! And I hope you don't hurt Enjolras too much … but he does deserve a slap

S.B – ANOTHER ONE! Well Done mon ami! Glad that you feel sorry for everyone … my mission is complete

Audrey Lynne – I love doing it too but I am always afraid that I will make it way too clique … Also I realised I did not make it very clear bit Adrienne was actually Mme Grantaire not Enjie. He is Ricard Julien Enjolras!

Brightleaf – EEP! I hope this was quick enough for you!

Alina Watson – Taire is my favourite charater too! I just love him! Blagden is a pretty good Grantaire but I believe he is too … innocent and nowhere near drunk enough! Fraser will always be Grantaire in my mind!

O – WooHoo I have breached Mainland Europe … well done on being my first Mainland European reviewer *fireworks* And one, regretful is a word … two, you'll have to wait and see if they die

Lisle987 – Thanks for your support and I hope this equals your expectations!

**11 REVIEWS HAZZAH! Thanks to everyone … now for some Grantaire feels!**

**Chapter 5**

Grantaire groaned as his delirious mind awoke from the hastily, forced sleep. Blinding lights burned his unused eyes and his head pounded like an overused drum. His arm throbbed and was paralysed from the shoulder down when he tried to move. Grantaire's muscles were stiff and he was unable to move any of his limbs. "Taire," a voice above him echoed breaking the defending silence. Grantaire slowly cranked up his head and gasped. A figure loomed over him surrounded with golden light. "Grantaire thank god you're awake!" the figure exclaimed. Grantaire recognised the voice and pieced it together in his head with barely concealed glee. It was his Apollo. His Apollo had come to speak to him. He was overjoyed.

The realisation, that to be seeing his holy deity he must be dead, just flew through Grantaire's head not leaving a mark on his unwavering enthusiasm. So what if he was dead; now he could be with his Apollo for eternity. This had to be Apollo; the real Enjolras would never look upon him with fondness or be concerned for the drunkard's welfare. I had to be the holy Apollo living in the paradise of heaven. That was the only expectation. To be fair, being in heaven itself was a surprise let alone at the hands of his love. He had never been much of a believer in spiritual guidance; the idea that a human was a god was proof of his refusal to believe in one supreme overlord. Grantaire chuckled the irony had finally clicked in his mind; they all fought against repression but yet still worshiped god who in practice was the biggest dictator ever to have ruled. In his delirious mind this was the funniest thing he could think of. Heaven always seemed like a faraway concept and if he had to believe in an afterlife then hell seemed like his permanent residence. Who wanted a cynical drunkard at the pearly gates? No one wanted him anywhere, let alone the epicentre of all things holy and sacred.

The pain in his arm found a new lease of life and it was as if his blood was boiling as the pain spread at a lightning quick rate. Grantaire let out a soul piercing cry and his back arched in raw agony. The pain, all he could feel was the pain. Then it dimmed and the light returned and Grantaire clung onto the golden haze as if it was the only thing tiring him to his salvation. So it wasn't heaven. There was no pain in heaven. So was this some kind of cruel, devilish trick or a frenzied hallucination back on his home realm. "Grantaire, Grantaire. It's alright," his Apollo cried lightly holding Grantaire's shoulders. The angelic touch soothed his mind wrenching pain and he found himself staring into the eyes of his divine being. The light illuminated all the soft contours of Apollo's face with a radiant glow. His usually pale tone was glistening with a gilded shine that amplified his usually reserved beauty. His blonde curls were shining like a prestigious halo surrounding his angelic features. But what struck him the strongest was Apollo's eyes. The blue; it shone like a thousand sapphires and moved like the ever changing ocean waves. The blue; it glistened in the heavenly light like a portal into a new world ... A better world. The blue drew him in and locked his soul away, stuck transfixed in Apollo's gaze. His Apollo ... Finally his Apollo.

"Apollo," Grantaire stammered with his throat roaring in agony with every syllable. In his delirious state of ecstasy, he missed the flicker of confusion that briefly spread across the Sun God's face. He was so overjoyed that the silence meant nothing to him as his mind raced forming ideas that in his right mind the cynic would have laughed off within seconds. "Yes, that's me. I'm here for you," Apollo murmured in reply with a small smile, while kneeling down at the side of the injured drunkard. "Now you need to get better for me," Apollo whispered and Grantaire noticed a hint of tears glistening in his blue pools of emotion. Another fact that meant this could not be Enjolras. The real Ricard Julien Enjolras would never be seen crying over some cynic; the real Ricard Julien Enjolras was an exquisitely carved marble statue that was secretly emotional when he believed he was alone. People said things in front of a drunkard; people did things in front of a drunkard. He would never tell but Ricard was not the same person as the brave faced Enjolras he portrayed himself to be. He was sworn to secrecy by his own conscience ... Enjolras would never know. This Apollo was different. "Why can't I stay?" Grantaire stammered confused.  
"Because you do not belong here Nicolas. There are people back there that love and care for you and you have to live for them," Apollo begged and Grantaire scoffed.  
"Nobody loved me. I bet they will not even mourn if I passed into the void," Grantaire murmured, remembering all the harsh looks and stern words cast towards the practically anonymous drunkard.

"Nobody would miss me, Apollo. I was never loved ... Even my family hated my guts," Grantaire murmured but he was already resigned to the fact he would die hated and horribly alone. He would rather die alone from pain or from intoxication than die fighting trying to redeem his doomed soul. If you die alone there is no one to disappoint. No one to hate you for dying when you should live; he could pass into the pit of despair peacefully, knowing that he would not leave anyone alone behind him. "Grantaire! You were loved ... No one at the Musian wished for this to happen to you. They all need you there," the great Apollo murmured, almost embarrassed as his cheeks flushed a baby pink.  
"Then why does Enjolras hate me?" Grantaire cried out moaning with pain.  
"Grantaire please stay calm, you'll hurt yourself further," Apollo begged, holding Grantaire's quivering hand softly. "Enjolras does not hate you, Nicolas! Far from it, go back there. Help them, live for them and I promise everything will get better. Do you trust me?" Apollo asked, pleading with his glistening blue eyes. How could Grantaire say no to his Apollo? Even though all the emotions in his heart told him no, no one cared, he could not deny his Apollo's wishes. At least, if he was hated again when he returned; then he had tried for his Apollo. Grantaire slowly nodded his head, hoping he would not regret this decision later. "Thank you Nicolas … also promise me this, please leave the drink," his Apollo whispered and Grantaire reluctantly nodded before drifting into a dreamless, deep sleep again.

Enjolras feel back onto his heels with his eyes filling up with the pent up tears. "Does … does he really think that we think so low of him?" Enjolras muttered wiping the tears away. Combeferre nodded reluctantly as Enjolras stood up. "And what did you just tell me to do?" Enjolras asked the confusion evident on his face. Combeferre blushed and stammered around the question. "Ferre!" Enjolras replied sternly.

"You just pretended to be Apollo, the Greek god of the sun, to stop Grantaire from killing himself," Combeferre murmured trying in vain to hide the words.

"What!" Enjolras shouted his eyes a mix of shock, horror and relief.

"I guess I probably have some explaining to do, don't I?" Combeferre sighed.

"Damn right you do Lucian!" Enjolras exclaimed.


	6. Chapter 6

_**11/3/12**_

**Disclaimer – You know the gist of this by now … blah, blah I own nowt.**

**Wow thanks for the support again!**

Lisle987 – Thanks a lot and I am afraid it doesn't get better for Taire …

Juliet116 – Combeferre is one of my fav characters :) And I hope I got delirious thought process right

Everybody's chaperon – Glad you enjoy and I try to legthen my chapters but I love cliffhangers way too much!

From Rue with Love – I always reply to all my reviewers, my way of saying thanks for being there. I love twists and cliffhangers so you better get used to it! Dream scenes, flashbacks and delirium are my specialities. Nicolas just seemed to fit and I love the irony and Lucian means light which I liked.

O – Yep but I assure you it is not going to get any easier for the poor lad. Hope you like this chapter!

Audrey Lynne – Thanks … the boys aren't all out in the clear yet though!

S.B - *blushes* glad you like! And believe me I could never kill Taire … probably … Ricard means Strong Leader so I thought it fit quite nicely

Wolfen Artist of Hetalia – Thanks a lot mon ami! I like to make the names fit the people so am very select. Your support is one of the things that keep me going

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – Poor delirious Grantaire … anyway glad you enjoyed!

Rebel In Red – Yeah spelling and grammar are not my strong points however my beta is back off holiday tomorrow so quality should improve. So glad you love it!

**10 Reviews … just thank you all! And because of this I have decided that every 25 reviews I will choose the 25****th**** reviewer and he/she/it can have a Les Mis oneshot based on their favourite characters or pairing or idea, dedicated to them … so the 25****th**** Reviewer was ****Lisle987**** so pm me with your request**

**Chapter 6**

"It's a really long and complicated tale though," Combeferre whined sitting down on the couch in the corner.  
"We have time," Enjolras stated calmly sitting down next to him.  
"Well ... Remember that Christmas. When we had the party at the Musian in fancy dress," Combeferre asked and Enjolras slowly nodded. "That was four years ago when we were properly opening the Amis?" Enjolras asked. "You are right this is a long tale," he sighed.  
"Are you sure you wish to hear it all?" Combeferre asked hoping for an answer he knew he would not get.  
"Every single shread of detail mon ami. If I am to right my wrongs I must know," Enjolras stated with raw passion and determination that Combeferre could not fight against.  
"We were all stood around in little huddles laughing, talking, drinking waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. You were the last. If I remember correctly we all assumed you have decided to give our little get together a miss," Combeferre stated calmly.  
"What!" Enjolras exclaimed. "What do you mean? I would never miss a meeting just because I felt like it!" Enjolras exclaimed.  
"That's the thing Enjolras. This wasn't a meeting ... This was a party and if I am right before that night you hadn't been to a party since we were eight let alone eighteen!" Combeferre exclaimed challenging the leaders dominance. That was why Enjolras had Combeferre as his deputy; he needed someone who dared to challenge and defy him and his lifelong friend was the only member of the Amis who had the courage and knowledge to do so. Enjolras backed down slightly.  
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, you were the last to arrive and shocked us all the exquisite white suit, fake halo and realistic angel wings," Combeferre chuckled and Enjolras blushed.  
"It was Courf not me! I didn't want to come dressed up at all," Enjolras murmured trying to defend his wounded pride.  
"We were all shock but none as much as Grantaire. If you had looked around at that moment then you would have seen a grinning, dumbstruck Grantaire. It was like he had experienced an epiphany. Once I had got you in and discussing with Feuil I walked over to check on our favourite drunkard," Combeferre explained then sighed in a pause.

"You must promise never to tell him you know ... Only me, Courf and Feuilly know the details of that night and we swore ourselves to secrecy," Combeferre sighed feeling slightly guilty in divulging his lifelong friend's secret to the one it was to remain hidden from. "Grantaire please forgive me ... It is for your own good," he thought, trying to dispel the guilt from the back of his mind. But it just carried on niggling.  
"I swear that unless a desperate situation occurs this knowledge will remain a secret," Enjolras swore with all his heart; if this could help Grantaire get better then he just had to know. These feelings for the winecask had arisen out of nowhere but yet he still could remember a time when the safety of Grantaire was one of his prime priorities ... What had happened to them both? But yet when he thought back the concerns for his friend had never gone even when the Grantaire he remembered had vanished from sight. Maybe they had even amplified when Grantaire actually needed saving; yet, he had caused the greatest harm. His words, his careless words had broken the winecask. He might even be beyond repair. Enjolras could not cope with his poisonous thoughts and just had to find out the truth about the mysterious ami. "Just tell me ... I need to know," Enjolras begged and Combeferre reluctantly nodded.  
"I walked up to Taire and he just remained fixed on where you had walked in the door. By this point I was concerned. Had he gone into shock or a heart attack? You always assume the worst but luckily it hardly ever is. Thankfully the answer to both those was no but I defiantly did not expect what he declared," Combeferre sighed pausing again to calm his frantically beating heart.

"Grantaire stood there in silence staring at the door when I lightly clasped his stone shoulder. 'Are you alright Taire?' I asked softly and he just smiled. 'He is an angel,' Taire whispered," Combeferre sighed and Enjolras gawped.

"He … he really thought," Enjolras stuttered, disgusted that he had been so oblivious to Grantaire's emotions. Combeferre nodded looking down at the floor slightly embarrassed for their unconscious friend.  
"I reacted in quite a similar why telling him that you weren't an angel but he would not listen. It was that night he decided that you were the god Apollo personified and will never be swayed from that view. I feared that in his delirious state he would not listen to Enjolras but would only care what his deity thought," Combeferre admitted and Enjolras nodded.  
"And so that is why you had me pretend," Enjolras sighed sinking down with his head in his hands. They sat there in silence, the only noise being Grantaire's irregular breathing. "What have I done?" Enjolras exclaimed. "I pretend to fight for the people, to know what they are going through. How can I ... When I don't even know the slightest details about my friends!" He shouted in anger.

Grantaire had been awake. He heard Combeferre tell Enjolras one of his secrets. His greatest secrets. He had trusted his lifelong friend and this is what happened. And his Apollo, that added to his despair. His Apollo had tricked him, his holy angel had lied. A single tear dripped from his closed eye and his mind raced. They had lied and used him. His friends ... He could trust no one. Grantaire stumbled to his feet holding back the tears behind a cold stone front. Both men spun round and jumped to help the stumbling figure. "Get away from me!" He shouted passionately and Enjolras froze.  
"Taire, it's us," he whispered reaching out for the shivering man's hand.  
"Yes Apollo," he hissed and Enjolras' face dropped.  
"Grantaire, forgive me," he muttered.  
"You lied to me!" He screamed stumbling forwards. Combeferre instantly dove to catch him. "Get off me!" He cried. "You told him ... You told him!" Grantaire cried the tears finally coming the the forefront. "What else are you going to tell him that you swore would stay concealed?" Grantaire cried. "About my abusive siblings, about my house that alcohol was in every drink, about the nights," he cried not really thinking.  
"Nicolas ..." Enjolras whispered reaching out again.  
"You should have left me to die!" He cried and the room fell silent once again. "I even failed to die," he whispered and ran out of the room grabbing an absinthe bottle as he stumbled out of the door.  
"Nicolas," Enjolras exclaimed about to dive after him when Combeferre held him back.  
"Leave him Enj. It will do neither of you any favours to chase now," Combeferre murmured sitting Enjolras down.  
"I must! Before he hurts himself again," Enjolras shouted with his famous passion.  
"I know where he will go. I will go in an hour or so," Combeferre whispered calming the frantic young man.

Grantaire stumbled as quickly as he could out into the chill winter air gulping from the bottle every time the pain threatened to take his consciousness. He couldn't help think back to all those times in his childhood where his secrets almost came out into the open.

_Banging came from the door but it was barely a squeak compared to the ruckus inside the thin two story Parisian house. "Nic did you touch my absinthe?" A voice screamed down the stairs and the seven year old boy cowered.__  
__"N..no," he stuttered shrinking back into his seat. Thunderous footsteps ricocheted down the flimsy wooden stairs as the child frantically hid the drawing he was working on in his secret compartment.__  
__"You did, didn't you dog?" The drunk eighteen year old slurred lifting the young Grantaire up by the neck, cutting off his precious air supply.__  
__"I di'nt, promise," Grantaire cried gasping for breath.__  
__"Don't lie to me runt!" He shouted dropping the boy harshly to the floor, cutting his head. Finally the knocking echoed, over all the shouting from all corners of the house. Grantaire heard the door creak open.__  
__"Nic! It's your rich friend!" His little sister screamed with more power than a six year old girl's voice should contain. You needed to have a strong voice to keep up with the rest of the Grantaire household.__  
__"Go and you better bring us sommet 'ome today," the man shouted kicking the huddled figure before storming out to go accuse someone else. Grantaire hurriedly pulled his drawing out of of the compartment and pulled his tattered long sleeved jacket over his bruised arms, a black scarf to hide his red neck and a worn brown hat to disguise the ugly gash. He darted out into the cold and saw Enjolras sat on the step. He turned around and his face lit up.__  
__"Nic, I thought you weren't coming out. Erin said you might be slightly busy," the energetic young boy chuckled jumping to his feet.__  
__"I finished off," Grantaire smiled weakly beginning to notice the lack of blood in his head.__  
__"Come on Lucian is meeting us at the marketplace," Enjolras grinned and pulled Grantaire along, letting the boy forget his troubles ... Even if it was for a short period of time._


	7. Chapter 7

_**18/3/12**_

**Disclaimer - … Can I stop writing this yet? I own absolutely nothing**

**Another great round of support and I am so happy people take the time to read my works!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – I am afraid that the strain between the two will go on for a little while yet, mon ami!

Juliet116 – I am so glad that you feel that way, and poor poor Taire …

Wolfen Artist of Hetalia – I just love exploring the different characters pasts e.t.c and hope you like this chapter!

Guest 1 – Thank you; hope you enjoy!

AnnaLiz2012 – aww sorry for the tears! Hadley is my favourite ever Grantaire so I just had to set this around his portrayal.

Guest 2 - *blushes* Thank you so much … the praise means a lot to me.

Audrey Lynne – Oh dear! I hope you have recovered from the accident in time for this chapter.

**Lisle987 – Your one-shot is coming along nicely and should be done very soon!**

**Chapter 7**

Combeferre strode up the stairs in a dingy apartment building. Tacky floral wallpaper was peeling off at the edges leaving a chipped wall visible underneath. The whole building smelt like decades old mould and now that he stepped inside, the aforementioned mould was clearly visible at every single corner. Water was in puddles on the floor …or at least what he hoped was water. Faint lights flickered ominously, barely lighting up the hallway they were stationed in. A chilling breeze shook through the hall from a cracked window and sent a chill through Combeferre's bones. He kept his usual composure despite a tense feeling that the walls were watching his progress. After peering at the slip of paper Grantaire had given him, Combeferre stopped uncertainly in front of a grey door. Whether it was supposed to be grey or not was a different question entirely, but it was clear that years of abuse had taken its toll on the door and it had clearly seen better days. The hinges were rusted and looked as if they hardly held the door on at all. He lightly tapped on the precariously balanced door and coughed as the plume of dust erupted from the surface. He continued to look around as he waited for Grantaire. The carpet was worn from many years of merciless use and had many unknown and certainly unpleasant stains littering the floor. This was Grantaire's little sister's apartment. If this didn't sum up the Grantaire family then nothing would. A thump echoed from inside the apartment and loud, slow footsteps vibrated through the practically cardboard floor. The door finally creaked open, letting out a scream as the rusted hinges protested the sudden movement. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Grantaire looked as bad as the apartment building. His skin glistened a snow white in the damp light as sweat beaded on his brow. The usually vibrant hazel eyes were bloodshot and sunken with exaggerated black shadows lining them. The bones looked as if they could pierce his skin any moment and the look of pain and dejection sent daggers into Combeferre's heart. His arm was still bandaged, as it was before. but blood was beginning to seep through the ivory fabric. He held himself like a man doomed; like he had nothing to live for anymore.

"Why are you here?" Grantaire practically hissed at his visitor. This reaction just hurt Combeferre more.  
"I am sincerely sorry Grantaire and so is Enjolras," Combeferre whispered and Grantaire scoffed.  
"I presume the mighty leader couldn't bear to apologise to a drunkard like me," he laughed scornfully and Combeferre winced.  
"I thought that you wouldn't appreciate Enjolras knowing about this place and that you would react exactly as you did. May I come in?" Combeferre asked and Grantaire reluctantly opened the wailing door further so the medical student could slide in.

The apartment itself was no better than the building it was located in. The window was smashed into fragments making the single room flat freezing and damp. The curtains hung limply off a bending rail, making no effort to shield the inhabitant of the room from the cruel weather. The room was sparely furnished with only a cobwebbed wash basin, a bed made of planks of wood clumsily nailed together and a few blankets strewn across it, an old, small, dusty fireplace and a small clumsily made table. Grantaire seemed oblivious to the horrid conditions he subjugated himself to. "What do you want?" Grantaire asked spitefully and Combeferre sighed.

"I want to apologise for what we did and to try and convince you to come back," he stated bluntly.  
"I cannot come back, not now," Grantaire stated weakly, thumping down onto the bed; Combeferre nodded somberly. "Please don't tell Enjolras, just tell him you couldn't find me," Grantaire begged.

"I cannot lie to him Taire," Combeferre murmured sitting down next to him.

"Always the loyal servant," Grantaire exclaimed and suddenly moaned grasping his head with his one good arm.

"Taire," Combeferre exclaimed moving to kneel in front of the hunched over figure. "I won't tell Enjolras if you will let me treat you and keep an eye on your health," Combeferre murmured holding Grantaire's shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispered as the room tilted and rolled like the troubled waves of the Pacific Ocean.

After re-bandaging Grantaire's arm and trying to sooth his fever, Combeferre left the horrible apartment with butterflies churning inside his stomach. He could not lie to Enjolras. He knew what this story would do to him but there was nothing else to be done. He had to respect Grantaire's wishes or the drunkard would disappear. They would never know if he was alive or dead. He breathed deeply steadying his heart as the apartment building that both he and Enjolras, lived in loomed over him. "Just tell him Lucian," Combeferre whispered to himself as his heart thumped against his chest. "Just say it," he whispered jumping up the stairs two at a time. He unlocked Enjolras' door and slowly pushed it open. Enjolras was hunched over by the bed with his head in his hands. As the door subtly squeaked, his blonde head bounced up with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Did you find him?" Enjolras blurted out, looking for Grantaire.  
Combeferre solemnly shook his head while his heart twisted with guilt. "He wasn't where I assumed he'd be," he murmured and watched as Enjolras' spirits sank and an expression of pain and dejection spread across his features. The glint in his eyes vanished and he sunk down onto his chair. "We'll find him Ricard, we will," Combeferre whispered as his guilt turned into mental agony. Enjolras nodded weakly.

"I'm going to go out looking," Enjolras stated pulling on his waistcoat and stormed out the apartment.

-

The night air was bracing but the dense cold helped clear his frantic mind. What if Grantaire was dead? What if he had made another attempt on his life? What if Enjolras was not there to foil it this time? Multitudes of unanswerable questions roamed through his mind as he walked. Pain pierced his heart making it flutter out of beat. Guilt twisted like a knife in his gut. It was all his fault. If he hadn't had been so heartless then one of his best friends wouldn't be missing … probably lying in a gutter somewhere, dead. Images plagued his depressed mind of Grantaire mutilated in hundreds of horrible ways, until Enjolras could not take it anymore. He ran back to his apartment and collapsed onto his bed before the tears flowed freely.

No one had ever seen Ricard Enjolras cry before … but that didn't mean he never did cry. The marble statue that everyone was so acquainted with … that was just a façade. He wasn't really as cold as stone; he was emotional and sensitive but that could never be seen while the weight of the revolution rested on his shoulders. His salty tears flooded out and sunk into the pillow leaving wet marks lining his marble cheeks. He cried and cried as his sobs slowly lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

Energy buzzed round the back room of the Cafe Musian as passion sparked through the air. The air practically hummed as the Amis laughed and discussed amongst themselves. However, despite the seemingly contagious, joyous attitude, one figure sat swilling a glass of wine with no intentions of ever drinking the substance. Enjolras' mind would not clear. Not even planning the revolution, writing speeches or debating with Marius helped sooth the pain tearing through his soul. He had never felt this way about the drunkard before. It wasn't just that this whole mess was entirely his fault; there was something else he could not put his finger on. Despite Enjolras strict claims of hating being doted upon by the drunkard ... He realized now he missed it. He needed it.

The great revolutionary leader needed someone like Grantaire to tell him he was amazing and that he could do it. He felt so selfish and ashamed but that was the truth. Enjolras knew he needed to find Grantaire. He needed to bring him home. But Combeferre would worry. Enjolras had to hold a pretence of normality while he broke down inside. "Enjolras, they are waiting," Combeferre murmured, lightly resting his hand on the tense man's shoulder.

Enjolras flinched at the contact but hurriedly regained his composure. "Will you be alright?" Combeferre asked cautiously. "I can do the meeting today if you want some time," he suggested but knew what answer he would receive as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I am fine Ferre!" Enjolras snapped, standing up. As soon as he stood up, the magnificent resolve faltered and he ran his trembling hand through his hair. "I'm fine," he murmured.


	8. Chapter 8

_**20/3/13**_

**Thanks for all the reviews again and I have my 50****th**** reviewer – Little-miss-laughs-alot! I have PMed you about your prize**

**Lisle987 – yours will be done soon I promise you :) just needs to be beta'd**

J91 – That is absolutely true!

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – I know but there are much more troubles for these two yet!

Juliet116 – Oh there is much more to come mon ami. Also more about Grantaire's family is slowly revealed but his sis isn't there

Wolfen Artist of Hetalia – aww … shucks *blushes* Thanks a lot. I always write misery better than happy …

From Rue with Love – hmm I don't know why you have puppets … but I am so glad you like it!

Almost an Actress – It is a shipping story just not typical fluff e.t.c sort of developing E/R. And the rest of the amis will have a bigger part later but … it may not be good for Jehan, and still debating about it!

Audrey Lynne – I know! I wrote it and I still want to hug them both so much!

Little-miss-laughs-alot – 50TH REVIEWER! Thanks a lot I am glad you enjoy

**For any of you that read my other story Compramised – this chapter and the next few are the same basis of that story with some edits to fit this story line. So the two stories will be updated at similar times as they are the same.**

**Chapter 8**

Enjolras raced through the city streets in his usual nightly routine. He had spent every day since Grantaire disappeared looking for the man. He was scared, Enjolras was scared that Grantaire would try and end his existence again and this time no one would be there to save his soul. It had taken a lot of energy out of him trying to balance the revolution and the pretence of normality, and the desperate hunt for his friend. Every night he check the streets, showed a drawing of Grantaire around hoping that someone would know where the man was ... And he wasn't too late. Enjolras had not slept in weeks since Grantaire ran out of his door in floods of tears. How could he? The guilt burned inside him and the hatred for himself ate at his heart. Ricard Enjolras could hardly be recognised as the man he was before this incident had torn his world in two. His blonde curls hung limply in knots by his cheeks and his skin shone but not with its usual golden hue. It shone with a sickly white sheen. His eyes were hollowed and the one emotion replaced the passion and pride that had always filled them; unwavering guilt. Filthy clothes hung off his unnaturally skeletal form and his nails were chipped from endless hours of biting at them.

No one ever noticed his night time searching. In the slums of Paris you never asked why someone was there. That was until tonight. "Are you Monsieur Ricard Enjolras?" A gruff voice from behind him bellowed. Enjolras spun around to find a large figure blocking his exit from the alley. Enjolras mustered as much energy and pride as he could before addressing the stranger. "That I am who wishes to know?" Enjolras asked stepping forwards. That was the wrong move to make. Shadowed figures jumped from the roofs surrounding him and all raised handguns pointing at his head. The figure strode forwards and stepped into the circle. "Ricard Julien Enjolras you are arrested for disturbance of the peace and conspiracy for treason. You can come quietly or we can do this how I wish to?" The man asked with a sadistic smile. Enjolras kicked out weakly towards the man but with lightning quick reflexes the man grabbed his leg, twisted and Enjolras collapsed onto the ground. Enjolras let out a cry of pain at his dislocated leg but continued to try to stand up. The famous Ricard Enjolras was not going down without a fight. The leader pulled out a gun and pointed it at the struggling Enjolras. "Are you going to stay down while my men tie you up or do we have to make a mess?" He asked cocking the gun. Enjolras leapt up but at the same time the man let out a shot that smacked and ran though his not dislocated hip. Enjolras collapsed to the floor as blood pooled out from the wound and neither of his legs could hold any weight anymore. The leader smiled. "Here let me help you with that," he chuckled and relocated Enjolras hip with a quick boot. Enjolras cried out and the screams echoed off the enclosed walls. No one came. That was how Paris worked. No one saw anything. No one did anything.

"You two tie him up and you stop him bleeding to death," the commander ordered his men. One man hurriedly bandaged up Enjolras' wound making him cry at every movement. The others tied his arms behind his back and shoved a makeshift gag into his mouth with immense levels of brutality. The leader walked over with a smile and pulled Enjolras' arms up so they were above his head and twisted further than they should ever go. The gag prevented any more cries but tears of pain trickled from his eyes. He was dragged through the dirt by his twisted arms and thrown into a police carriage. Blood was soaking through the bandage and Enjolras was slowly losing consciousness as the pain became too much. When the carriage set off, Enjolras was thrown against the wall and everything became a welcoming black.

The next morning, Enjolras didn't arrive. That wasn't like him. He was never not at a meeting without telling Combeferre exactly why not. Combeferre had walked to Enjolras' flat to pick him up and he wasn't there. Just a slapdash note on the inside of the door saying, "just had to head out! See you at the cafe" So Combeferre had come to the meeting and Enjolras had not turned up at all. Combeferre had improvised a speech but he was constantly watching the door and his mind racing. He cut the meeting short and set off back to Enjolras' apartment, while trying to stop his mind conjuring all the worst case scenarios. Enjolras couldn't be dead. He could not lose Enjolras. He knocked on the door and was about to unlock it when a notice pinned hastily onto the door caught his eye. He tore it off and read it. To whom this may concern, the owner of this household Ricard Enjolras has been placed under arrest for countless charges. If anyone has any information about this man's business or any of his associates please come to the police and you will be handsomely rewarded for your troubles. Combeferre gawped at the notice and hurriedly retread it before shoving it into his pocket and making a run for it. He ran straight to the house where he knew Grantaire to be hiding and rammed open the door. Grantaire was stood weakly inside with a gun pointing straight at Combeferre's head.

"Never burst in on me," Grantaire moaned throwing the gun on the bed and sitting down with his pounding head resting in his sweating palms. "What's so urgent that you felt the pressing need to break my door?" Grantaire asked weakly. Combeferre frantically unscrewed that note and threw it at Grantaire. "They found him," Combeferre murmured tears threatening to finally spew out. Grantaire hurriedly read the note and started at it in shock.  
"No ... No!" Grantaire shouted throwing the note at the wall. "We need to save him!" Grantaire shouted leaping to his feet and Combeferre nodded. Grantaire wobbled threateningly on his feet and fell back onto the bed with Combeferre catching him at the last minute.  
"I shall go to the Amis and spread the news. We shall come up with something 'Taire," he promised and darted out of the smashed door. That moment Grantaire's heart shattered again. Enjolras had been taken while out looking for Grantaire. He had let his guard down in desperation for hunting for the man who was hiding from him.

Combeferre ran through the streets barging people and carts out of his way in a frenzy. They had prepared for a situation like this but no one had ever actually thought this would happen. He approached the Musian and tried to calm his flapping heart. He was their leader now. He had to be strong despite the impending threat on his best friend and honorary little brother. He still hurried into the almost deserted cafe. Thankfully, the innocent civilians had all left the cafe and only members of the Amis remained. Feuilly was stood at the bar flirting with the temporary bar staff and her vivid red blush was a sure fire sign that he was winning. No one could ever resist the honest worker with a bad boy streak. Courfeyrac was laughing and taking bets with Bahorel on Feuilly's success with the unsuspecting girl. Joly was drinking and having a conversation with Bossuet probably about some condition Bossuet seemed to have caught ... Again. The Musian was still a friendly place but it seemed empty. Without the heart and soul of the revolution, in the form of Enjolras, the room lacked energy and passion. And without the friendly face of Grantaire it was silent as if the building itself was waiting for Grantaire's laughter of the sounds of a bar fight to fill the silence. None came. Everyone turned to face the newcomer hoping for good news. Combeferre was in no position to give any. "Everyone this is an emergency. We have been compromised," he exclaimed jumping up onto one of the tables.


	9. Chapter 9

_**23/3/13**_

**Wow thanks for the support again this is absolutely amazing and is now my most popular fic ever … thank you so much!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – I just felt that with tweaks and minor adjustments this fit so well into this story but the endings of them both will be entirely different! And I assure you Grantaire will come to the rescue but his plans are slowly being revealed.

Almost an Actress – Thank you and Jehan will have a key part later in my other fic Compramised and he will be part of this. I just love him too much to leave out.

Juliet116 – It is part of my other fic Compramised but I just felt this would work so well in this! They both have slightly different plots and will have completely different endings. And I love writing those two as more like brothers than friends.

Little-miss-laughs-a lot – Thanks, and I am sorry for the feels overload. Your fic is in the works and I am really enjoying writing it so far!

S.B – The review thing is absolutely fine I am glad for any support! Finally Taire gets to do something and Enjolras' eyes may open but is it too late?

Wolfen Artist of Hetalia – Here you are and I seriously hope you like

Noroell - *blushes* thanks so much! Support is what helps me write

**Chapter 9**

The room erupted in furious outcries. "Enjolras has been arrested and they are hunting for his accomplices," he explained and everyone jumped to their feet.  
"How did they catch him unaware?" Courfeyrac asked even though in his heart. He was sure everyone already knew.  
"He was hunting … for Grantaire," Combeferre whispered and the air became dense and clammy against his sweating skin. "Joly, you go and get Jehan. Courf you find Marius. Meg," he said addressing the bar girl. "Your boss has measures in place for such an event. You are to close up for the foreseeable future due to staff illness. Your wages will be paid in full with a one hundred franc bonus if you swear to keep this whole affair silent," Combeferre announced and the girl gawped before nodding frantically. Joly and Courfeyrac darted out of the doors and set to work on their hidden missions. "Everyone else start loading the supplies out of the back room to upstairs," Combeferre commanded running through the protocols Enjolras and himself had devised to keep the Amis safe. He never believed that he would actually have to do this without Enjolras by his side. Once everyone was working the enormity of this sunk onto his shoulders and he slumped down off the table. It was his fault. It was all his fault, if he hadn't let things get out of hand then Enjolras wouldn't have let his guard down out at night.

Courfeyrac returned with Marius and set the boy to work setting up the upstairs so they could all stay there until the police threat died down. He looked over and spotted Combeferre slumped on the edge of the table with his head in his hands. "Ferre, are you alright mon ami?" He asked hesitantly sitting next to the hunched figure. This episode with Enjolras and Grantaire had taken a lot out of them all but none more than Combeferre. The boy looked like the world rested on his shoulders and he had run himself ragged keeping the Amis afloat despite the fact one of them was missing and their all-powerful leader was plagued with immense grief and guilt. Enjolras was like a little brother to the tall blonde. He was probably plagued with the grief of what haunted his best friend. He didn't want all this to hurt his friend. They didn't know what they would do without him. He was the backbone of the Amis and they all know that Enjolras needs his big brother.  
"Everything is fine Courf ... We just need to get him back," Combeferre murmured but the philosopher knew that that could not be the whole story. He raised an eyebrow as a polite way of telling Combeferre that he knew that wasn't the whole truth. "I should have stayed with him and tried to calm him down. Those two are always fighting but never on this scale before. They are both hurt ... I knew something bad would happen," Combeferre exclaimed.

Water splashed his face and Enjolras was shocked awake. He slowly blinked away the water and the dark splashes in his vision. Enjolras was held firm on his knees in front of the savage who had shot him before. From this position down on the cold stone floor, his assailant looked even more intimidating that in that dark alley. "Wakey wakey princess," the man chuckled as Enjolras shook the last traces of unconsciousness out of his mind. "To start with, will you co-operate and tell me the names and addresses of your friends?" the guard asked with a sly smile. The continuously stubborn revolutionary just spat in his face but before he had anytime to gloat; he was dunked. The men held Enjolras' head under the surface, despite his frantic struggles, until they started to fade. With vicious brutality, he was yanked back up by the hair so his head was held up to the guard. "Now I have two weeks to play around with you and I always get what I want. Will you make it easier on yourself or do I have to fight you?" he asked and Enjolras smiled. "Vive la France!" he shouted with a smirk.

They repeated a painful routine for what seemed like an eternity. The guard would ask Enjolras a question; Enjolras would reply with a witty republican response; he would get dunked or kicked; they would do it all again. Enjolras was not going to back down. He would not let his friends get hurt and his beliefs will never be mocked. If one word could be used to describe Ricard Enjolras, it was stubborn. He would never crack. Never! It was this resolve that kept his mind an impenetrable fortress despite the terrifying water boarding experience. Time had no meaning in that room; the only light came from two candles in the corner and they cast ominous shadows of all the figures. Despite all the precautions he set up just in case of an arrest … he had always assumed that it would be someone else not him. Even though, thinking back, he was the one that was most likely to be arrested. At the end of one of their 'sessions', Enjolras was thrown, ridiculously hard, back into a windowless, dark cell; he was left with his arms tied behind him back and gagged. They were trying to rob him of food and sleep. They obviously hadn't done that much research into their prisoner. Enjolras could go a lot more than two weeks without eating or sleeping. As he lay there, he could not help thinking of his friends, of all the amis. How were they coping … did they follow what they had planned?

"We cannot break into the bastille!" Bossuet shouted over the cries that echoed round the upstairs of the Musian. "Are you all mad? We would all be either killed or captured and Enjolras would be no better situation than before," he shouted and everyone fell silent.

"He's right," Combeferre reluctantly agreed. "I believe our best bet would be on the execution day. They have already started advertising for it. Two weeks yesterday … that means we have twelve days to plan our attack," Combeferre announced taking charge. The amis nodded and calmed down slightly. Combeferre looked around the room at all the expectant faces staring back at him. He wasn't cut out for leadership, he didn't have Enjolras' charisma or motivational speeches; he was perfectly happy being the one to support and care for the leader. He couldn't take that role himself. But he had to now. Courfeyrac edged closer to Combeferre.

"You are doing fine Ferre. We will all stand by you," he murmured with a weak smile. Combeferre looked at the young revolutionary; his eyes were also troubled and his hands shaking almost unnoticeably. He looked around the table to where the rest of the ami's were murmuring amongst themselves. They all looked worried like he was. They needed a leader ... And he was the one most qualified for the position. "We need to split up. If too many people walk out of here to go to the same place then they will begin to get suspicious," Combeferre explained standing up and leaning on the table. "I will stay here as i am the one most likely to be recognised as being with Enjolras on a regular basis. I can work on the plan itself and strategies," Combeferre muttered and everyone agreed. "What do we need for this to work?" He asked the assembled group.  
"Disguises!" Marius exclaimed.  
"Yes, we need two people on disguises. Marius will you take Jehan to gather as many items as you can; hair dyes, hats, tattered clothes, glasses anything," he asked and Marius nodded and the boys sat next to each other talking. "What's next?" Combeferre asked finally sinking into the leadership position.  
"Weapons!" Bahorel shouted with everyone beginning to get involved in the planning.  
"Bahorel take Feuilly and collect weapons and ammunition. The weapons need to be able to be carried on our person without being noticed. Also spare ammunition back here just in case we are pursued," Combeferre instructed and Bahorel nodded calling Feuilly over. "Next!" Combeferre started.  
"Medical supplies, who knows what will happen," Joly exclaims sorrowfully.  
"Great thinking, Joly you go with Bossuet and gather all you think we may need," he explained scanning over all the little groups. "Everyone, while you are out gather any information you can find about the placement of guards and the events if the day. Everyone plan what we will do in the morning ... Courf I need to speak with you," he muttered and Courfeyrac walked over and they stood in the corner. "You will be on a private mission. I only know one person who will be able to gather all the facts we need to succeed," Combeferre whispered.  
"Grantaire," Courfeyrac sighed and Combeferre nodded.  
"Out of the assembled people here you are the one that knows him the best and who he is more likely to talk to. I need you to talk with him and get him to help," Combeferre sighed.  
"I will boss ... I am sure he will want to help. No matter what he feels about Enjolras now he would never leave him," Courfeyrac nodded.  
"Here's the address," Combeferre smiled passing a scrap of paper over.

Grantaire was as busy as the Amis were. He had his own plan. It was in no way foolproof and had a massive risk that someone would blurt something out and both of them would be killed. It was a risk he had to take. He could not leave his Apollo to die. He had over reacted ... It was all his fault. He couldn't do anything properly and always ended up getting those he loved hurt. His plan, however foolhardy it was, was more likely to succeed without any innocents getting injured and all the Amis would be safe. He had thirteen days to solidify his routine and prepare the disguise. The problem is ... Stage one was to get into Enjolras' flat without being arrested. His old skills were nowhere near up to scratch but hopefully he could fluke his way through. That is if they hadn't cleared out all his belongings yet. If they had then that was another problem entirely. Grantaire sat assembling his fire arms in preparation and his fingers brushed in the pistol that Rene had given him.

_The young Grantaire sat with a pint of ale in the corner watching Combeferre and Enjolras dart around excitedly. The energy and rebellious nature had been beaten out of him and replaced with grim indifference. He was only ten but his mind already relied on at least a pint a day. He felt a body sit down next to him, which loomed over his small figure. "You shouldn't be drinking at your age Nicolas," Rene spoke with a friendly smile. Those words almost made Grantaire put the drink down but a small movement twitched the cut in between his shoulder blades. He remembered why he was drinking and took another swig. "I need to speak to you about something very important," Rene murmured and Grantaire turned to face the man. "I need to give you this," he whispered and offered Grantaire a pristine pistol. Grantaire gasped and softly took the gun._

"_Why?" he murmured._

"_Because I need someone to keep your friends safe when I cannot be there. Julien will not be entirely focused on those he cares about. I doubt that Lucian will be able to shoot. And I trust you Grantaire, you are the realist," Rene explained making Grantaire blush. "Keep it hidden and use it for the cause and safety of your friends," Grantaire nodded sliding it carefully into his hidden pocket. _

"_I will," he side with a smile, feeling proud of the firearms he wore._


	10. Chapter 10

_**26/3/13**_

**Bonjour Mes Amis! I love you all for the support you have given me making this now my most popular fanfic I have written and it is in a small fandom! Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter … I have been addicted to a fanfiction – Captain Scaramouche Series by TWSythar! Read it … it is amazing :) **

Stagepageandscreen – Thanks a lot for your review and I am glad you like. I felt that Compromised just fit so well in with the concept of this fic

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – I hope this satisfies your interest mon ami

Almost an Actress – Thanks a lot! General angst is my speciality, I can make any chapter depressing … not that good a skill … anyway I believe Jehan is the character no one can not like (excuse the double negative)! My faves are Grantaire, Enjolras, Combeferre, Jehan – in that order!

Little-miss-laughs-a lot – You'll have to wait and see … muhahaha. Also your fic is coming along nicely and I dare say I am enjoying it

Everybody's chaperon – awww *blushes* you guys are so sweet. Physcology makes ff so much more interesting and real. And as for Grantaire, I see his feelings for Enjolras being more lust, desire, and idolisation than love. It more that he needs his Apollo!

Noroell – Well conspiracy to treason is a major offense, coupled with disturbing the peace as well. They need to make an example and a certain blonde revolutionary has practically signed up for it!

Juliet116 – Well I look forward to seeing if anyone gets my hints and if we are still on the same wavelength mon ami!

Sarahbob – Thanks so much … have I said how much I love your fanfictions and support from other great writers I love makes me feel all nice inside! I have already read then next chapter of No Place for A Revolutionary … LOVE'D IT!

GraeGrae – hehe don't cry in class … I've done that when reading – it is terribly embarrassing!

**Chapter 10**

Courfeyrac was as shocked at the state of Grantaire's hideout as Combeferre. He just didn't hide it as well. Everytime something squeaked or rattled on the floor, the well-off student flinched. He just couldn't see how people lived in such places; let alone people who he knew. This was why he was fighting. Courfeyrac was fighting for a new start for people such as this; so they could live proper lives out of hell holes similar to this one. Where Combeferre walked ignoring the conditions, Courfeyrac naturally exaggerated his situation. That was just who he was; caring, compassionate but a drama queen at times. He banged on the door and squealed when it growled menacingly. Thumps echoed inside the room. The door was swung open with a piercing wail. "Ferre, please go away, I feel bad enough as it is," he moaned without looking at the figure in the doorway. Grantaire was in even worse state than the day before when Combeferre had seen him. His beard was bristly and unkempt and he was in desperate need of a shave. Days after days of no sleep had left his eyes sunken and dejected; they looked like all hope was lost. The flickering light shone of his pale sickly skin and he was none too pleased to see Courfeyrac. "I give one person my address and suddenly everyone knows," he grumbled slamming the door in Courfeyrac's face. Courfeyrac just stood there gawping at the decaying door. He then knocked again hesitantly. "Go away Courf!" he shouted from inside.

"Combeferre sent me, we need your help to rescue Enj," he shouted through the paper thin door.

"Since when did you all suddenly need me!" he shouted back gruffly.

"Nicolas Grantaire open this door or I will kick it down!" Courfeyrac shouted and the door swung open again.

"Whatever your plan is it won't work!" he shouted and tried to shut the door again but this time Courfeyrac had predicted his movements. The smaller boy was inside the apartment before Grantaire could move. "Courf!" Grantaire exclaimed. Courfeyrac was too busy gawping. Grantaire's one room flat was converted into a scruffy war room. Maps and diagrams nailed onto the walls hung limply. Papers scattered the floor and fire arms were hastily tucked under a blanket. He walked over to the main wall that had a massive map of the square with various positions marked upon it; where Enjolras would come from, where the guillotine would be positioned, where the most guards would be stationed … everything.

"Wow," Courfeyrac murmured and Grantaire sighed.

"Please leave," he murmured knowing that Monsieur de Courfeyrac was never going to leave now.

"No way … what the hell are you doing Taire?" Courfeyrac asked examining more of the pages scattered on his decaying table.

"Robin, just don't ask," Grantaire insisted but he was not backing down.

"You're trying to save him," Courfeyrac remarked with a smile.

"What will it take to get you to leave?" Grantaire commented, deliberately avoiding the previous statement.

"I need you to tell me your plan and help with ours," Courfeyrac grinned.

"No!" Grantaire said bluntly with as much strength as his weakened body could muster. "What are you going to do if I don't?" he exclaimed, weakening slightly and having to clear some space on a chair so he could sit down.

"I will have to alert Monsieur Lucien Combeferre and he is not in a good mood at the moment," Courfeyrac chuckled mischievously. Grantaire groaned.

"I agree … on one term. You do not ask the details of my plan and you do not try to stop me. I need to do this alone and no one will like it," he mumbled, playing with the strands of the bandage round his arm.

One after the other strands were pulled out and deposited on the floor. The practice kept Grantaire's frantic mind steady and had a repetitive motion to keep his trembling hands steady. He had to be sober … but it was so hard. The wine called to him in a sweet symphony and the harmony of absinthe rang through his pounding head. The liquor called to him with a melodious voice and he felt his concentration waver. "Grantaire, R? Are you alright?" Courfeyrac's voice broke through the poisonous fog clouding his thoughts.

"Nicolas," he said clearly; it was as if his voice was a sweet breeze blowing away the fog that had its grasp on his mind. The wispy fingers released his tense mind and he slumped forwards with a groan. "R … are you alright?" Courfeyrac asked cautiously. "You sort of blanked out on me there," he mumbled.

"I'm fine," he stated sitting up straight again. "Do you agree to my terms?" he asked snapping back into his professional state, ignoring the pounding in his head.

"I agree," Courfeyrac conceded with a sigh and Grantaire smiled weakly; he was trying to remain strong and in control in front of his friend. Where they friends? Associates? People who share the same friends? People who happen to vaguely know each other?

After an hour and a bit Courfeyrac was leaving Grantaire's apartment equipped with maps and information that he could relay back to Combeferre. Overall it was a successful mission. He set off with a small spring in his step back to the Musian.

Grantaire shut the door and let out a pent up exasperated sigh. Courfeyrac was challenging to put up with at the best of times let alone when in the initial stages of alcohol withdrawal. But he had a plan to put into action. There was no time for Robin or liquor. It was time to go on a raid.

**A/N – I am sorry it is so short butschool is just so urggg at the moment but I should be back to normal length for my update on the 29****th**

**Also**** in your review would you be able to say if you believe this fic would suit a happy ending or a sad ending?**


	11. Chapter 11

**_29/3/13_**

**I have decide that partially as an excuse and partially to help other writer I am going to recommend a fanfic each Chapter – so this chapter:****Guillotine by Eleix Moone! E/R fic which is emotionally destroying and amazingly written**

**WOW TWELVE reviews :) I am so honoured to have such good fans!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – Thanks for your opinion! Personally I like sad endings too! This chapter should be more satisfying than the previous

AwesomeReaderAndWriter 357 – I believe I have decided on the ending and it may suit what you would like

Juliet116 – I have now decided and it will be happy … the sequel however muhahaha. And I look forward to seeing if you were right

Little-miss-laughs-a lot – I am on holiday now so a little reprieve phew! Hope you like

Alix – Thank so much and I am 15 … and almost failing English :) not my best subject. Thanks so much for your help … I really struggle with finding the right ending to fit my story but with this I feel I may have it right *fingers crossed* I love advice and am so glad people respond, I only started writing less than a year ago and am still gaining my confidence and finding my feet. *blushes* you guys are so kind to me … I just don't know what to say …

Almost an Actress – I broke up for Easter yesterday YESSS! I promise Enjolras will live … spoilers hehe

Darci the Thespian – Thanks for your review … Ch4 was pretty bad :) Happy seems to be the consensus of opinion hmmm

Sarahbob – Thanks a lot … I am the same when it comes to hurt Enjolras. Your one shot is going to be so angst hehe

PhoenixGirl97 – I am so glad you like and there is plenty of Taire in this chapter

Stagepageandscreen – THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING! :D …sorry about that outburst … anyway, GrandR is drastic, what do you expect?

GraeGrae – Thanks so much and I hope this update will be worth your excitement!

Guest – There is still a fair way to go yet and plenty of surprises in store hehe

**Sarahbob was the 75th****Reviewer and her oneshot will be coming soon!**

**Chapter 11**

The sickly summer heat pressed down on Paris. Everyone was moving around quickly, trying to stay out the blazing sun and the oppressive heat. All except one. One figure stood in the direct light of the blood-boiling sun; he was completely oblivious to the hustle of the city going on around him. That figure looked as if he was staring at the gates of heaven instead of some average Parisian building. It was in no way high class, but it was known one had to have money to live in this end of town. The figure was an odd character; he looked as if he didn't belong but yet he was lost in a crowd the instant you looked away. Nicolas Grantaire stood on the doorstep of Ricard Enjolras's apartment building. He calmed his fluttering heart and closed his eyes. His plan was flawless; he had a response prepared for anything that could go wrong. He knocked on the door.

A petite old woman opened the door and smiled at him. "Can I help you, Monsieur?" she asked politely and Grantaire forced an overly sweet and friendly smile onto his usually somber face.

"Bonjour, madame! I am here to see my cousin Ricard Enjolras but I am afraid I left my key for the front door at home," he chuckled and watched as the kind woman's face dropped.

"Monsieur Enjolras?" She stammered and Grantaire nodded chirpily.

"That's the one," he chuckled.

"I am so sorry but I am afraid M. Enjolras has been arrested," he mumbled and Grantaire let his facade of joy drop.

"R-r-Ricard ... Arrested? Dieu!" He stuttered, planting an expression of pure horror onto his face.

"I am so sorry," she added and Grantaire looked like he was about to faint. Nicolas was a convincing actor; finally he had a skill that was needed in life.

"Would you like to sit down?" The kind landlady asked and Grantaire nodded slowly.

"Thank you Madame, this is just a great shock," he murmured with his hands trembling convincingly.

Maybe it wasn't all acting; his hands really were trembling, his head pounding. A sit down sounded wonderful right now. He followed her into the building with shaky, unsure steps. He had to do this; the plan had to come through. For Apollo's sake. It was all for his Apollo. They had left each other with harsh words and poisonous feelings but Grantaire could never keep hold for long. The guilt tore his heart and made his iron resolve even stronger. Nothing would distract him; not the concerto calling out to him from the liquor, not his blasted arm. His arm; a painful reminder of his idol's hatred of everything that made Nicolas the cynical drunkard he is. But isn't that the point of having an idol; you don't care if they hate you or scorn you, they are a god. They are … Apollo incarnate. The nice lady opened her door for him and he stepped inside politely. "Thank you Madame, you have been very kind," he murmured slowly sitting down. "I just can't believe little Ricard is … is," he choked holding back floods of fake tears. The landlady made him a strong coffee and he sat there, cradling the non-toxic drink.

"Were you two very close? I am afraid I do not know about M Enjolras' family," she admitted, also sitting down.

"We used to be very close but Ricard severed all ties with his family when he left. We have remained in brief contact since," he whispered.

"I am afraid I didn't catch your name," the landlady said softly.

"Oh my apologies, my name is Raoul Enjolras," he smiled weakly and offered his hand; she shook it courtly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, I just wish it was under better circumstances," the old woman murmured and Grantaire nodded.

"Would you, would you mind if I … I look in his apartment? I would like to save some of his most treasured things. I've got my own key," Grantaire murmured while a forced tear dripping into his coffee for effect.

"Of course, darling," the landlady exclaimed. "We can't have those scoundrels getting their hands on M. Enjolras' stuff," he nodded and Grantaire smiled softly.

"Thank you," he said softly passing the cup back to her. He stood up slowly and walked to the door and out towards Enjolras' door. He unlocked it and slid inside. He hurriedly pulled out a black bag from under his coat and lined the bottom with some of Enjolras's clothes before Mme Landlady walked in.

Grantaire picked up some of the pamphlets and incriminating pages and slid them into the bag along with what he knew were Enjolras' favourite books. The main one being a full script of the Fall of Robespierre that Enjolras treasured more than his life. No way were the authorities getting their hands on that book. Grantaire gently ran his hand down the black leather spine. The book provided something of Enjolras' to keep hold to; to stop him breaking down; to keep the memories. Its pages were in perfect condition, as if the volume had never been opened. If you picked up any other book in the cluttered apartment the pages would, no doubt, be dog-eared and written all over. All the other books had stains and crumbs pressed inside the pages from when Combeferre had forced him to eat while working. All but this ancient volume. Grantaire was not usually allowed within ten feet of this book … and now he was holding it in his hands like a crystal treasure. He slid it gently into the bag and wrapped it with as much care as his delirious mind could manage.

"Can I just have a moment?" Grantaire stammered with fake tears welling up in his eyes.

"Of course," the landlady said softly and shut the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, all pretences were gone and he set to work. He knew that Ricard Enjolras always kept all important documents under a loose floorboard under his bed. Don't ask how he knew … he just did. There was no time to think about that now. He pulled the loose board up and pulled out all the official documents he would need to play Enjolras realistically. Lining the base of the hidden compartment was an old scrapbook that Grantaire had not laid his eyes on in about ten years. He pulled it out with immense care and the dust bloomed into a cloud surrounding him. He coughed, wafting it away, and laid eyes on the worn blue cover he knew so well. It was the scrapbook Combeferre's mother had bought as a present when they were eight, after Ferre's accident. He opened the front cover and Enjolras' familiar scrawl was spread out on the back of the cover. _Dear future selves, this scrapbook is in case one of the three amis ever forgets about the others or the cause. We pray this will never come to use but it will also serve as a good memory. Please keep this going and maintained. Julian Enjolras-Combeferre, Lucien Combeferre and Nicolas Grantaire Age 8_

Grantaire sat down slowly flicking through all the pages looking at pamphlet's then taped in, letters, Enjolras' speeches, Grantaire's drawings … Rene's drawing. Rene's pin, drawings of the four together. They had started it after the day that Enjolras' dad had attacked the pair. And Combeferre had lost his memory of the previous year. He chuckled slightly at Enjolras' signature of Enjolras-Combeferre; Combeferre's parents had taken him in to keep him away from his father and he fitted into the perfect family like he had been born into it. The images of Rene still tore into his heart. Their idol, the inspiration … dead. Grantaire could not see how Enjolras could bear to start another barricade after Rene. The barricade had killed their best friend and was now going to kill all of them as well. He carried on reading until he reached the point where he no longer featured in the book. That when his Apollo began to hate him. Pages after pages were full of the amis and revolutionary items but there was no more Grantaire. He stowed that in the bag along with the other book and stood up. After returning the room to its rightful order, he left; the landlady said a kind goodbye as he filtered into the crowd.

It had been a long couple of days for Ricard Enjolras. The abuse, both physical and mental had begun to take its toll on his body and morale. He had run out of creative republican quips long ago and was now exhausted. The door clunked open and Enjolras suppressed a groan. "Afternoon pretty boy," he chuckled, stepping in. Enjolras sat as tall as his battered body could manage but the man just laughed. "Loyal and proud, I am going to enjoy breaking you. I can do whatever I want to do to you, as long as it doesn't harm your pretty little face. We want your petty friends to recognise their fallen leader," he chuckled.

"Don't you dare insult my friends!" he shouted standing up. No one insulted Les Amis de l'ABC, no one. The guard slapped him.

"I can do what I want," he snarled and Enjolras turned away, unable to hold his sore cheek because of the manacles. "Whereas you, on the other hand, are chained up like a prized hound," the general hissed and Enjolras bit back a retort at the dent in his ego. "Like a dog, I own you for the rest of your life. Which I can promise you will not be long. Tell me about your friends," he growled. There was a long silence as Enjolras regained his composure before turning back to face his captor.

"Woof," he whispered and keeled over as he was kneed in the gut.

"I will break you dog! Take my word for this, you will fall so low you will be begging to tell me your secrets," he snarled. "Gag him and tie him up properly. I am fed up speaking with him," his captor growled, kicking Enjolras in the chest one more time before leaving. The guard set to work toeing him up again despite Enjolras' calculated strikes. He was left there in the darkness, alone, bound, tired and hungry. But still his mind fell back to his Amis and praying that they were all still free and unharmed.


	12. Chapter 12

_**1/4/13**_

**Fanfiction for this chapter: Bulletproof by stagepageandscreen. It is a beautiful one-shot … it's not long but so much emotion is crammed in!**

**Also this is the point where Compromised will split with this. For the next two chapters, they will have the same events but each section will be told from different character's points of view.**

**Thanks again for all the support I have received and I am so honoured to have such great readers!**

Sarahbob – Thank you so much … and he will do anything for his Apollo! The one-shot is going really well and should be up soon!

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – So you have worked out my plan muhaha. But you haven't got the finalities done yet … glad you found that chapter better

Almost An Actress – Glad you enjoyed and I hope this update is good enough!

S.B – No need to apologise … I am just glad people are reading this! I felt that was the sort of character Enjolras is and I am glad you agree with me. I am so glad you have enjoyed it so far.

Stagepageandscreen – I am so glad you like the references to the past; I love working with that and coming up with my own theories behind it.

Juliet116 – I am so glad that people have worked it out from my hints (subtle and not so subtle ones). I know poor Taire … :(

ForeverFlamingFire - *blushes* aw you. I am so glad you enjoy my work … it makes me feel good inside when people write things like that.

Enjy and Taire – Thanks so much and by the way, love your username!

**Chapter 12**

The day had come. The city was abuzz for the coming execution. Preparations had been made weeks before for the first proper execution Paris had seen in a long time. Everyone was excited and bustling about the square, French flags hung everywhere and the king's crest was on every available surface. Guards roamed the streets ready for a rescue attempt or a revenge uprising. The government was not leaving anything to chance when it came to the mysterious revolutionaries. They had spent the weeks they had Enjolras trying to find the rest of the group. Enjolras had stayed true to his word and not leaked an ounce of information about them, and the Musain was still a secret. Courfeyrac had heard people asking around about Combeferre but no one knew where he was and no one had any suspicions. The Musain was full of maps, sheets, firearms, costumes and anything the lads could get their hands on for the mission. It was almost time and their hideout was humming with nervous energy. They all hadn't had a proper night's sleep in the two weeks they had been working and were all running on panicked adrenaline.

Combeferre sat in the Musain with his pounding head resting in his trembling hands. Poisonous doubts swirled in his mind; what if we don't succeed? They'll kill us all! He shook his head trying to shake his thoughts away. The fog gripped his soul covering his determination and passion. He needed Ricard. He couldn't lead, he could never lead. What was he thinking doing this? It was too late to back out now. Oh Dieu, what were they thinking? "Ferre, Ferre!" a voice shouted through his panicked haze. He tried to latch onto it to stop himself sinking even further into his pain filled delirium. "It's alright Lucien," the comforting voice mumbled and a light, soft hand landed on his shoulder. The physical connection drew him out and he could finally think again. His rescuer was none other than the little poet, Jehan. "Everything is going to be fine Ferre, and you have been a wonderful leader," he murmured with his signature little smile. How does Jehan always seem to know what you are thinking? The words from the poet comforted him greatly and he found his iron resolve returning in a trickle.

"Thanks Jean," he murmured with a weak smile. "You always seem to know what to say," he chuckled slightly.

"It is part of being a wordsmith," he giggled and tucked a flower into Combeferre's lapel. "It's a Hyacinth ... Flower dedicated to Apollo. We're all going to wear them," he mumbled and Combeferre nodded.

"Thank you so much Jehan," he said while admiring the flower.

"It's time!" Courfeyrac exclaimed.

Everyone stood in their different areas of the square. It was always busy for public executions but never as busy as today. Everyone wanted to see the famous revolutionary die. The rich were gathered to laugh and joke as the threat to their power was eradicated. The poor were gathered to mourn the loss of their brave new world and the loss of a life that had so much potential to give. Combeferre would not let this happen. He would not stand by and watch as his best friend was brutally murdered. Either he would save Ricard Enjolras ... Or die alongside him. They had made a promise when they were younger; they would be together forever. They would fight, live and die by each other's side. Enjolras, Combeferre and Grantaire bound by the same oath. He could not see Grantaire in the dense crowd but he knew the winecask would be here somewhere with his own plan to save his Apollo incarnate.

"You ready boss?" Courfeyrac asked appearing behind him. Combeferre jumped slightly and let out a tense sigh.

"Sorry Ferre," he apologised and Combeferre just shook his head.

"Sorry, just a bit tense now," he admitted nervously. Combeferre was certainly worse for wear and the tension was clearly visible on his face. The usually unfazeable doctor and philosopher was ragged and his face was sunken and pale. Everyone knew that Enjolras was Combeferre's little brother in all aspects apart from the legal; but no one expected the blonde's absence would affect him this much. His normally steady hands were trembling uncontrollably and hovering over his pistol for comfort.

"We all are," he reassured their temporary leader with a slight smile. Combeferre nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. The crowd fell silent as the bells were rung. It was time.

Combeferre had a direct view of the stage from where he was stood. His job was to shoot into the air then duck round to attack the stage from the side. All the amis were in disguise but Combeferre the least. Enjolras had to recognise at least one of them if he was going to trust them to get him out of there. Combeferre was in a simple torn shirt and worn trousers. He had dust smeared and ingrained on his face and his unruly blonde hair was tucked inside a dirty brown cap. Joly was on the other side of the stage and Bahorel was in the middle. They were the team in charge of getting Enjolras out of there in the midst of the chaos. Feuilly, Bossuet, Marius and Jehan were in charge of causing the distraction they needed. He was sure Grantaire would be hidden in the crowd and hoped the drunkard would join in their fight. That was if he didn't have his own plan to save his idol. When Courfeyrac had returned from his mission to seek out Grantaire, he explained that something strange was up with the winerat. He seemed distracted, mysterious, and that worried Combeferre. His plan better not mess up theirs.

A man stood at the front of the stage right by Combeferre. He unrolled a scroll and brashly cleared his throat. "Today is the public execution of Ricard Enjolras. He has been found guilty of conspiracy to commit high treason and repetitive charges of disturbing the peace," he announced and a drum thumped in the background. Each thwack of the drum made Combeferre jump and his heart skip a beat. He was way to tense for this. Combeferre tried to calm himself down but he was still twitching nervously. He had never felt like this before. He was usually the level-headed one; it just showed how much he needed his other half to be there. He couldn't live without his petit frère. The drum beats increased in speed and the doors at the side opened.

Enjolras was lead out with his hands chained behind his back. His time in prison had obviously not been kind to him and Combeferre felt his soul-twin's pain. Enjolras was limping heavily on his right leg, wincing every time he put weight onto it. His left arm was hung limp; obviously dislocated at the shoulder. His face was not marked at all but his skin was unnaturally pale and sunken against his pronounced cheekbones. He looked starved and exhausted … practically asleep on his feet. Enjolras' angelic hair hung in knots around his face. But yet he was still standing tall and proud, like he always was. The drum beats increased in their deadly tempo and Enjolras was lead closer to the block. Combeferre's signal to shoot was when the drum beats faded into a steady drum roll.

Enjolras was stood in front of the blocks, still looking resolute and like the marble statue he was often called. Nothing flickered across his face as the guard pushed him painfully to his knees. Combeferre silently drew his pistol and prepared to shoot. The drum beat faded and time seemed to slow to a painful rate. His hands were trembling and all those poisonous doubts returned with a vengeance. _"I can do this, we can do this,"_ he repeated in his head like a holy mantra. _"We can do this!"_ he continued as he raised the gun. Then another shot rang out. He hadn't fired, he was sure he hadn't fired. The drum stopped and everyone stared at the shooter. A circle of space had formed round a man and the guards were closing in on him. "Stop!" he shouted firing into the air again. The shot rang throughout the square, ringing in everyone's ears. The mysterious man's voice had deep power and authority that no one dared challenge. Combeferre stepped up onto a step to try and get a glimpse of the man who had ruined their plan. He looked up at Enjolras who was stood on the stage gawping, actually gawping at the scene in front of him. Combeferre finally managed to look at the figure and his face mirrored Enjolras' down to the last detail.

It was Grantaire. What _pour l'amour de Dieu_ did he think he was doing? He stood with gun raised in in the centre of the crowd. He cleared his throat and addressed the stage, "You have the wrong man … I am Ricard Enjolras!"


	13. Chapter 13

_**6/4/13**_

**Recommended Fanfiction – When Tomorrow Comes by ****Chain of Prospit! Love'd it, go read.**

**Sorry this chapter is late on my schedule – I have been so busy lately!**

**Thanks so much for all your support that this has gained … I never believed it could be this popular!**

Almost an Actress – So glad I took you by surprise! Urgg I am always spelling it wrong, thanks for pointing it out. You gotta love Jehan!

Stagepageandscreen – Glad you liked and it was my honour to recommend your work. Thanks a lot for reading my Avengers stuff as well!

Sarahbob – Thanks a lot I am glad you liked it! And I am pleased that the excitement is building. Your one-shot is coming along well!

Darci the Thespian – Maybe it will … maybe it won't *wink*

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – I do believe that sums it up pretty nicely

PhoenixGirl97 – Thanks for reviewing and it seemed to have the desired effect :)

Juliet116 – Hope this was quick enough for you and you enjoy it!

From Rue with Love – I apologise profusely for killing you. My sincere condolences.

S.B – I do love writing a good cliff hanger and who knows how they will react

Carcass – Thanks for your review and help. I often miss blatant mistakes but luckily my beta is back so they should be corrected soon and further chapters should be better!

**Nearly at 100 REVIEWS OH … MY … DIEU! The 100****th**** reviewer will receive a MULTI-CHAPTER fic of their choice written by me along with the rest of my fics :D!**

**Chapter 13**

The first stages had gone well. Grantaire had managed to get into the execution without being stopped for his guns. He had decided to leave Rene's pistol with Courfeyrac to keep it safe and so it will get passed to Enjolras on his death. He then took his place a decent distance away from each of the amis so he would not be spotted and stopped. He had to do it. He had watched Enjolras walk out with pain in his heart. The pain only strengthened his resolve. Again, the rest went perfect but now was the hardest section; use his outstanding charisma to convince the police to let Enjolras go and take him instead. He shot a single bullet into the air to get everyone's attention but made sure to keep his head low. The later the amis recognised him … the more likely this plan was to succeed. The crowd fell silent and he smiled slightly. All was proceeding as he anticipated as the crowd slid away from him. It was like they were forming a stage for his final performance. A nervous chattering rose up in a wave from the crowd as police swarmed towards him. Another shot into the air. "Stop!" he shouted in anger, they would not hurt his Apollo and then try to sneak up on him.

Then the announcement, which may have killed Enjolras in shock. He didn't think about that risk; Enjolras was still breathing so all was good. The police stopped surrounding and Grantaire breathed deeply to clear his mind. "I am the real Ricard Enjolras, let the boy go. He is innocent," Grantaire announced sternly. The head of police, who Grantaire knew to have a grudge against all revolutionaries, jumped onto the stage to address Grantaire directly with fury radiating from every bone in his body.

"Liar, we all know this is Enjolras!" he screamed from the stage as if he was daring Grantaire to contradict him so he could pummel him into the ground. Grantaire never was one for warnings.

"That child is just the façade the real Enjolras hides behind," Grantaire declared holding his chin up proudly. "You cannot seriously expect the leader of a successful revolution to go around declaring his identity to anyone who asked," he chuckled to spite the hateful man. The chief's anger built reaching new highs but he still remained stoic when speaking with Grantaire.

"Why reveal yourself now then, oh mighty leader?" he asked with a slight growl resonating in his gruff voice.

"I will not let an innocent boy die in my place. Take me not him," he announced through the gasps in the crowd. Most he presumed came from the other amis then he knew were there.

All the man did was laugh. "Then we shall take both of you," he cackled ordering his men to advance as two others restrained Enjolras. Grantaire shot into the air again.

"I thought I said, stop!" he shouted so that his powerful voice bounced off everything. "You think I would come here alone for this trade," he laughed. "I have armed men waiting in every corner of this square, if you try to double cross … they start shooting," he threatened, still staring at the man who hurt his Apollo. No one hurts his Apollo.

"And what if you are lying?" the guardsman asked and Grantaire chuckled. He prayed that the other amis would use their sense and respond. A shot echoed from near the stage. Grantaire sighed in relief. They had caught on. Another shot came from behind him and soon they were all echoing around the square. Grantaire smirked at the guard, who was turning red in fury.

"Those are my men. Take my offer or we start shooting," he declared raising his gun. "And you will be the first to go," Grantaire winked.

"I take your … offer," he snarled and all the police slowly backed off. Grantaire grinned striding through the parting crowd to the base of the stage. The plan was coming together nicely and his Apollo would soon be free.

Grantaire was pulled up onto the stage. Enjolras was still stood there gawping at his lifelong friend. The way he walked, the way he talk, the soberness, the clothes; he really was a convincing Enjolras. Who knew Grantaire could act like this? He wasn't surprised the police were falling for his trick. Enjolras was almost falling for his trick. _Am I really me?_ He asked himself. _What in the name of dieu am I thinking … of course I am me_ he shouted inside his head. _But what if you are not you?_ _Stop it with the second person! I refuse to have an argument inside my own head_! _But you are … Stop it me!_ Had the torture really taken such a toll on his mind? _Maybe you are not the real Enjolras, he has brainwashed you so you think you are Enjolras? No! That cannot be true!_

Enjolras was pushed off the stage and thumped onto the stone cobbles lining the street below. Every muscle in his body roared with pain and this time he couldn't hold back to cry of pain that erupted from his dry lips. Soft but firm hands helped him to his feet and thankfully relieved his exhausted feet of the weight. "It's all going to be fine Nic," Combeferre murmured. A moment of confusion flickered over Enjolras' pale features before the pain hit him again, like a steam train. "We can go back to calling you by your real name now, Nicolas," Combeferre insisted and then the realisation of Grantaire's actions hit him like that very same steam train.

"N-no ... Taire no!" He cried struggling weakly against Combeferre's grasp. "I'm Enjolras, don't lie Nicolas!" He screamed but his energy was steadily deserting him.

"Ignore him ... Loyal to the end. Took him in off the streets once his parents left him. Feels some life debt," Grantaire whispered to the chief guard and Enjolras screamed at him with all his remaining strength.

"Nicolas Grantaire don't you dare do this to me!" He shouted before stumbling, leaning further onto Combeferre as the last reserves of his strength were expelled during the outburst. He looked up as the cuffs were tightened round Grantaire's pale, fragile wrists. The drunkard was looking back at him, pleading with his eyes. He slowly shook his head. That gesture was the final straw for Enjolras and he responded in a way no one had seen him do before. He cried. He curled up in Combeferre's grip and cried. He cried from the pain, the trauma and the loss of his friend. Enjolras didn't notice as Combeferre took his trembling figure into his arm arms and picked him up.

The other Amis all assembled around them at Combeferre's apartment. Enjolras could not bear to go back to his own. It reminded him too much of Grantaire. And they still hadn't got the blood stain off the door yet. Enjolras let out a choked sob at the thought. Grantaire was so willing to die for him and he couldn't stand it. Grantaire could not die for his crimes; the real Enjolras would not allow it.


	14. Chapter 14

_**10/4/13**_

**Thanks so much for the support and I have hit 100****th**** reviews! *virtual confetti and balloons* This means my 100****th**** reviewer will receive a multi-chapter fic written by me on a subject of their choice. The 100****th**** reviewer was ****Almost an Actress****, your fic will be making an appearance soon!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – Please don't cry … why am I saying that? The stuff I write is designed so people cry … carry on!

Almost an Actress – 100TH REVIEW! And thanks for your support. Enj's self-argument was amusing to write!

Sarahbob – Sorry for the heart-ache … it sorta comes with my writing as a guarantee. Hope you enjoy this chapter, more Enjy angst for you!

Juliet116 – Sorry! Don't go, I promise it will all get better in the end … *cough* just a few angst bits *coughs* then all will be fine!

Alix – Thanks a lot you are so good to me. Pulling on those heartstrings is what I do best and I am so glad you feel with them.

PhoenixGirl97 – Sorry! Don't kill me *raises chair in self-defence* I love Taire as well, I assure you! 

MsTonksLupin – Thank you so much for reviewing each chapter! All your comments are much appreciated!

stahp-the-feels - *blushes* thanks so much for your comments. Enjy does need a good hug every so often!

**One last note: the viewpoint jumps a lot in the chapter but I hope it is still understandable!**

**Chapter 14**

Tears refused to stop pouring down Enjolras' cheeks. He had never felt this way before. He had never felt so weak and helpless as he did that night. Combeferre was the rock he needed; he was a willing shoulder for Enjolras to cry on and for that he was incredibly grateful. Who'd have thought the drunkard's sacrifice would take this much of a toll on him. Slowly the rest of the amis trickled off to their respective homes with murmured apologies that never reached their leader's ears. It was late into the night before Enjolras finally ran out of tears and his sense returned. "So sorry," he mumbled trying to regain his lost composure.

"It is alright Ricard," he sighed, slowly brushing his matted blonde curls away from his face. "How about we get you cleaned up then you can rest," Combeferre whispered and Enjolras reluctantly nodded. He still didn't trust his voice not to betray all the emotions he was trying so hard to keep pent up. Combeferre help him to his feet; also taking the entirety of his weight so his tired feet did not have to cope. It was moments like this Enjolras realised how much he needed his best friend. Combeferre was the one man who could tell exactly what he needed without needing any words to be exchanged. Actually he could even work out what Enjolras needed before he did.

"Thank you Ferre," Enjolras murmured and the other man smiled.

"Anytime Enj," he replied with a small smile growing.

After Combeferre had methodically helped Enjolras clean all the prison grime and blood of his body, he set work on all Enjolras' plethora of wounds. Cuts and bruises coated every inch of his body, one arm was dislocated and his shin was shattered. Thankfully everything should heal up fine and their passionate leader should be back on his feet within a couple of weeks. The only problem was the leg. They couldn't take him to a hospital; and no doctors would want anything to do with a just released convict, even if he was acquitted. It was all down to Combeferre and Joly; the pressure was unbearable on him. He had to do it though, Enjolras needed him. Combeferre helped him onto the bed; for once Enjolras was allowing people to help him. This little change in his demeanour relieved Combeferre but also scared him. He had prayed that everything would be the same once Enjolras was returned to them. It wasn't. He doubted things would ever be the same throughout the Amis de l'ABC anymore.

Enjolras was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep but Combeferre knew best when it came to medicine. "Ricard, I need to relocate your shoulder. This is going to hurt mon ami," he sighed and Enjolras clenched his teeth and nodded slowly. The pain spread like a wild fire from the top of his arm to his mind but Enjolras did not cry out. He was fed up of crying in pain. He was strong; he would not cry. When the vicious pain subsided, his arm was not hurting at all. It was still a little sore but the relief was instantaneous. He sighed in relief and Combeferre smiled weakly. "I'll put it in a sling to rest it but it should be fine now. Your leg is of more concern," he mumbled and Enjolras' heart dropped. He was certain he would never be able to walk again. This was it; he would be a bed-ridden cripple for the rest of his life. "If I set it well then you should be back on your feet in a week or two," Combeferre explained and Enjolras' face brightened slightly.

"A w-week," he stuttered and Combeferre smiled.

"Yes but only short spells of time on your feet and no serious excursion," Combeferre replied sternly and Enjolras nodded frantically. "And I will need Joly's help to do it," he added. "Can he help?" Combeferre asked.

"Of course … but no hospitals, please," Enjolras asked and Combeferre agreed.

Someone knocked at the door and Enjolras flinched at the loud noise. The person had obviously taken care to knock quietly but everything seemed loud to Enjolras at the moment. Combeferre stood up to open it cautiously. Enjolras slowly sat up, wanting to see who their mysterious visitor was. Courfeyrac walked in solemnly holding a large bag in his arms. "Enj … he left this for you," Courfeyrac mumbled and Enjolras instantly knew who he meant. Enjolras frantically sat up straight ignoring the room beginning to spin around him. He didn't notice as Combeferre supported him and used the pillows to prop him up. He only saw the bag. Courfeyrac gently placed it on his knee and he opened it slowly. Emotions battled each other in his battered mind. Enjolras was intrigued, uncertain, afraid, depressed, nervous, and much more but one thing overrode all those; he had to know what was in the bag.

His head pounded. Everything hurt. The darkness swarmed around him but refused to take him in its sweet embrace. Grantaire had only been in this prison for a few hours but the head guard was angry. He is violent when angry. Needless to say, Grantaire soon became the receiver of that anger through intense violence. Maybe the witty retorts he replied with after every strike didn't help either. At least Enjolras was safe; at least his Apollo would not be hurt anymore. He still wore Enjolras' red waistcoat. They had let him keep his original clothes so 'he could watch as the symbols of liberty were tattered and ruined in front of his eyes!' Thank Dieu for small mercies. He was willing to endure this for an eternity if it meant his Apollo could stay free and safe. The door thumped open again and bright beam of light pierced the cloudy gloom that smothered him. "We need to validate your story," the man snarled at Grantaire's limp figure. "Tell us things from your childhood only one other person would know and we will leave your little friend alone," he commanded and Grantaire instantly launched into the long story of Enjolras' childhood leaving out his involvement obviously. "So this 'brother' of yours will be able to clarify this?" the guard asked and Grantaire nodded. "If even one second of his story does not match up or it seems planned in anyway, all three of your will be brought in!" he threatened before hitting Grantaire in the head with his truncheon. The room spun again and he could feel his heart beat in his head.

"Tough love," he whispered with a chuckle and received a blow to the stomach for his troubles.

Grantaire needed a drink. He needed one now. The alcohol was speaking to him and his throat burned with the absence of his vital nectar. The blows to his head didn't help either. He would close his eyes and all the drunkard would see was the Green Lady calling to him. He kept his eyes open but the fairies flew round singing in a sweet symphony into his head. "Stop it!" he cried, clamping his hands over his ears but the sound continued to beat into his skull. "I said stop!" he screamed hitting his own head in a vain attempt to rid himself of the poisonous melody. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard footsteps hurry towards the door but thhe tune just increased in strength. Grantaire needed a drink. He didn't know how long his mind and body would be able to cope with this forced sobriety. The amis were right; his body was more wine than blood. He needed the red liquor more than he needed blood in his veins. It was still singing to him. "I want it but there is none," the winecask cried out but the song just grew louder. He hit himself again and again until the song backed off and he finally sighed in relief and moved his hands. A crimson liquid stained them from knuckle to palm. The world went woozy and he fell forwards with an echoing thump.

**A/N – Short chapter but two cliffhangers in one chapter … I do believe I have out done myself :) Review please!**


	15. Chapter 15

_**13/4/13**_

**SO MANY REVIEWS! If we can get to 144 reviews this chapter I will be so happy. That will make this 3 times as many reviews as I have ever got before. 10 REVIEWS :D **

MsTonksLupin – Thanks babe! I always imagine that Enjolras cannot be that emotionless at heart!

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**A lot of thanks for this chapter goes to me roleplaying buddy Rosebud5! The flashbask scene in this is mostly her doing. Read her work it is amazing and thanks again buddy!**

**Chapter 15**

When Grantaire awoke, the pounding in his head was three times as worse as before and his whole body was stiff from hours of non-movement. He tried to stretch out but his hands were securely handcuffed behind his back and to the post of the bed he was sat on. The heavy cast iron door creaked open and Grantaire moaned with the pain roaring through his head. An average prison warden stepped in confidently and shut the door after him. He heard the telltale click that told him it was locked again; that little click vanquished all thoughts of a dramatic break out. Not that a breakout would work anyway. It wold probably get them all killed. The warden held a plastic tray and sat down on a chair in front of Grantaire before placing it in front of him. "It would be much easier to eat without these," he stated clinking the metal handcuffs together.  
"Those are to stop a repeat of last night's incident," the warden replied emotionlessly and picked up the glass of a clear liquid. To any unsuspecting person it would be seen as an average glass of water; but Grantaire knew and he held back a smile.  
"Vodka, you have really out done yourself," The drunkard chuckled leaning forwards towards the precious liquid. The warden tipped it up into Grantaire's mouth and he gulped it greedily. The alcohol flowed through his veins; it was as if the plain glass of liquid brought the winecask back to life again. The warden held his finger to his lips and Grantaire nodded. "Thank you," he whispered as the pounding in his head was vanquished by the might of the alcohol. The warden nodded and proceeded to feed him all the dry bread that came on the plate. Grantaire wolfed it down finally realising that withdrawal and blood loss made you exceedingly hungry.

The warden had been gone for a while and Grantaire was working on the handcuffs. Most government issue handcuffs have a weak link and a bending point. It was just a matter of finding it. It wasn't that he wanted to break out or run; it was just that he wanted to make a point, and handcuffs are exceedingly painful to wear. He was working through the links when the door creaked open again this time with a incredibly less friendly face. "Morning Captain, your henchman seemed to have forgotten to remove these when he came in," Grantaire smiled, clinking the handcuffs together but the captain just glared at him. "What was that last night?" He snarled at Grantaire with hate oozing out go every cell in his body.  
"Well I thought let's see how he reacts if I try to kill myself," Grantaire exclaimed, annoyed that he couldn't use his hands; comments like this always went better with hand gestures. "And my prediction was right," he smirked and received a punch the face for that answer.  
"The handcuffs stay on," he murmured "And don't think of doing that again or I will be ending your life," he threatened and Grantaire was inclined to believe him.

"I need to ask you some more questions," the captain hissed about that story you told me yesterday. The one about your father," he exclaimed and Grantaire nodded he thought back and imagined it as if he was living through Enjolras' eyes.

_The two boys ducked and dodged through the crowded streets of Paris. The young Enjolras and Combeferre had just finished at a meeting. Enjolras' mind was full of ideas and revolutionary thoughts. He had just met his idol; a man named Rene. Passion and joy radiated from him. That was soon to be crushed like an ant. "There you are!" Enjolras' dad roared from the other side of the road. The man had been abusing his son for months and Combeferre had finally convinced Enjolras to run. __Enjolras spun around, his eyes wide with fear. Those eyes that, only moments ago, were wide with revolutionary passion. Combeferre also spun round instinctively. __Combeferre panicked at the sight of Monsieur Enjolras and sprinted towards his house dragging Enjolras behind him. __Enjolras followed close behind, his heart racing, both with anger and embarrassment._ _His father ran after them and grabbed Enj's other arm in a frantic attempt to stop them running. __Enjolras yanked back, his eyes shining with anger, making him look wild. __His father punched the young boy in the face before Combeferre could move him out of the way. __Enjolras tumbled to the ground, unable to catch himself, a hand automatically going to his cheek where the fist made contact. __Combeferre dived in front of Enjolras standing proud. "Get out of the way child," Enjolras' father hissed. Combeferre shook his head and was slapped across the face but he remained on his feet protecting Enjolras at all costs. _

_"Shut up runt!" Enjolras' father shouted kicking Combeferre in the stomach. Combeferre feel to the floor obviously in pain. __Enjolras pulled Combeferre back, shoving him towards the house. "Get out of here!" he demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously. __"I am not leaving you!" Combeferre wheezed. Enjolras' father grabbed Enjolras on the wrist, and pulled the boy towards him. __"Get out of here," Enjolras growled again, his voice rising, his eyes flashing as he was dragged towards his father. __"No!" Combeferre shouted pulling Enjolras away from his alcoholic father. Enjolras' father just pulled his son back and pushed Combeferre hard onto his back. His head banged against the floor and his eyes rolled into his skull. __"Combeferre!" Enjolras cried, racing to his friend's side, shaking him. "Combeferre, please!" He turned to his father, boiling with rage. "You monster!" he roared, attacking him with all the might he had. __Enjolras' father grabbed Enjolras by the hair and pulled him away from Combeferre who was rolling over groaning with a concussion. __Enjolras winced at the grasp, trying to yank back. "Let go of me," he roared, trying to get to his friend. __"No you are coming home with me," his father snarled lifting Enjolras over his shoulder. __Enjolras struggled and fought against his father, finally ripping free and tumbling to the ground, his head hitting the cobblestones with a sickening thud, where he lay unconscious. __Enjolras' father picked up the unconscious boy and carried him back home. Combeferre awoke with severe dizziness but still stumbled over to Enjolras' house banging on the door as blood trailed down the back of his neck. He sunk down leaning on the door._

Combeferre watched as Enjolras slowly unbuttoned the top of the bag with his hands trembling. As he had got most of the buttons undone someone thumped on the door. "Police! Open up!" a gruff voice yelled through the thin wood. Combeferre grabbed the bag sliding it under the bed and threw the blanket over Enjolras and Courfeyrac helped him lie down.

"Courf, lie next to him. They can't know he is here," Combeferre insisted in hushed tones and Courfeyrac nodded sliding under the blankets next to Enjolras. Combeferre steadied his breathing and walked to the door. Hurriedly he pulled his shirt off and discarded it on the floor. Hesitantly Combeferre pulled open the door, "evening officers, can I help you?" he asked. "Sorry for not responding quicker I was in the bath," Combeferre apologised and the captain nodded. It took all Combeferre's willpower not to punch that man in the face for what he had done to his little brother.

"Are you Monsieur Combeferre?" the guard asked and Combeferre nodded.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked. "Or is this about Ricard?" Combeferre enquired knowing full well it would defiantly be about Enjolras.

"It is about your brother Ricard Enjolras may I come in?" the captain asked.

"I'm sorry but can we do this elsewhere I have a sick friend in there and would rather not disturb him," Combeferre lied and thankfully Coufeyrac played along and coughed with an added moan. "See I'm the doctor for my group of friends so they come to me when sick," Combeferre explained and the officer nodded.

"Would you care to come with me down to the bastille? You are not in any trouble we just need to ask you some questions to help with our enquires," the captain insisted and Combeferre walked out proudly locking the door after him.

The questioning room in the Bastille wasn't the nicest of places. You wouldn't expect it to be nice but this was supposed to be the room for people you weren't punishing. There was hardly any light apart from the light that could squeeze through a tiny window. There wasn't even any point barring the window it was that small. "How long will this take? I have work in the morning," Combeferre asked when the captain walked in.

"Not long monsieur we just need to ask you some questions about your brother," he commented and sat down across from Combeferre.

"Ok, what sort of questions?" Combeferre asked, feigning confidence. Inside he was shaking and praying that Grantaire had told the truth to this man or was going to. He didn't know what to do. Tell the truth; hopefully Grantaire would have had the sense to do the same. If not, they were both in deep trouble; really deep trouble.

"What age were you when you met Monsieur Enjolras?" the captain asked.

"I was nine," Combeferre stated and the captain glared at his notepad. "But before you try and kill us both. He was eight, we have a year age gap," he added and the captain nodded ticking his pad. So Grantaire had told the truth; thank dieu.

"Tell me about the incident with Enjolras' father," the captain asked and Combeferre's heart practically stopped mid beat.

"W-well, well. There might be, be a problem with that," Combeferre stuttered as the horrors returned.

"Care to explain," the captain asked, confused.

"I can't remember," he stated with a casual shrug.

"If this is a lie to protect your friend then I will not stand for it!" the captain exclaimed jumping out of his seat. He stood menacingly, looming over Combeferre's nervous figure.

"I can tell you what others have told me but I don't remember anything before two weeks after the incident," Combeferre mumbled. It hurt to think about it. That was his weakness and he hated to talk about it.


	16. Chapter 16

_**20/4/13**_

**Thanks for all the reviews and I am so sorry for the long wait!**

Stagepageandscreen – I am so sorry … but the bag is next chapter … sozzy

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – Yeah I put it in Compr! Glad you remembered hehe

Almost an Actress – Sorry I really struggled with finding a good place to end it hopefully this one will be better

Sarahbob – Glad you like the flashback I love writing them!

NotInspectorJavert – Thanks so much! A lot of the credit for that flashback has to go to Rosebud5 who helps me get Enjolras right in these things!

.9 – Thanks … sorry about the crying

MsTonksLupin – Suspense … muhahaha! Alcohol can always help. I love 'Ferre and he is so sweet

Juliet116 – He's an alcoholic … what did you expect? And it is definitely a problem … they'll find a way

Guest – I am sure I have heard most of them already :) (My beta is quite creative with her threats!) I will continue with the protection of if you kill me I will not be able to continue

S.B – You are not a horrible fan! As long as you read and love it you are a great fan! Thanks so much … you have been there since the beginning for me!

**Chapter 16**

"Explain!" the captain ordered and the images flashed through Combeferre's mind as if he was living it again partially from what Enjolras had told him.

_It was two weeks after the incident and both little boys has returned to the Café Musain. Rene, the current revolutionary leader and honourary father to the boys, was eager to see them and they caught up on all they missed. __Rene ruffled the blond's hair, offering him a small smile, "So, on a more serious note, how's the head?" Enjolras nodded a little. _

_"Much better, thank you. 'Ferre had it worse than I did... He still has a lump!" Enjolras stated, glancing over to his best friend in concern._

_"It's fine," Combeferre stated, not wanting any fuss for any of his friends. __Rene shot him a worried look. _

_"Take it easy, yeah, Ferre? You're a much better patient than Ricard here is," he commented, sending a wink in Enjolras's direction._

_"Tell me about it," Combeferre chuckled, "I had to set his arm and he would not stop wriggling!"_

_"It was perfectly fine. It didn't need set," Enjolras huffed, adorably._

_"It was broken, Julien," Rene said dryly while holding Enjolras' shoulder._

_"Of course it did!" Combeferre exclaimed._

_"Well I did not wriggle!" Enjolras argued._

_"Yes you did," Combeferre stated with his grin growing._

_"I was there, mon ami. You wiggled," Rene chuckled kindly; he was glad both boys were back to normal after what happened._

_"Told you so," Combeferre laughed, stucking his tongue out playfully. __Enjolras sighed, crossing his arms. _

_"Fine… Maybe a little," he pouted and sat grumpily. Enjolras humphed, adorably childlike, "You all are mean!"_

_"Sorry mon ami," Combeferre smiled hugging Enjolras playfully._

_Enjolras allowed himself a small chuckle, and he rolled his eyes, pushing Combeferre off him, "Alright, alright, it's fine," he smiled. _

_Combeferre's head began to pound again from the concussion as his vision blurred slightly. __Rene noticed this, and gave Combeferre a small, worried look. _

_"Are you alright, mon ami?" he asked concerned. __Combeferre nodded with a weak smile trying to blink away the multiplying black spots in his vision. __"Rest, mon ami," Rene sighed and lay a flag over Combeferre as a blanket._

_Combeferre nodded and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.__ Enjolras looked over towards his friend, worried. _

_"He will be fine," Grantaire murmured soothingly to the obviously worried Enjolras. __Enjolras sighed a little. _

_"I hate my father for doing that to him..." Enjolras murmured and Grantaire nodded._

"_I hear Rene gave him a screw in he'll never forget," Grantaire chuckled, trying to lighten the tense mood pressing down on them._

"_That's what I heard. I haven't seen him since it happened," Enjolras chuckled a little. __Combeferre, despite his best efforts to carry on, felt dizzy and his eyes lolled back in his skull cause him into flicker in and out of unconsciousness. Rene tucked the flag in around him and he drifted asleep again. __Rene went over and sat by Enjolras and Grantaire in his previous chair. _

_"How is he?" Grantaire murmured, glancing to his sleeping friend._

_"That head will take a while to heal, I'm afraid," Rene sighed and Enjolras looked nervously at his feet. _

_"And he is too stubborn to admit it," Grantaire added._

_Combeferre stirred drowsily with his head pounding; he moaned slightly in pain. __Enjolras turned at this sound. "'Ferre...?" he murmured as he went over to his friend's side. _

_"Urg," Combeferre moaned. "What happened? Did Grantaire hit me with a bat again?" He asked lightly feeling his head._

_"No, but your head started hurting you again," Rene chuckled lightly, stepping up behind Enjolras. _

_"Where am I?" He asked looking around. "And who are you?" He asked glaring at Rene cautiously._

_"I'm...I'm Rene. You're in the Musain. Remember?" Rene furrowed his brows slightly, panic setting into his heart. Enjolras took a step forward, worry in his eyes. _

_"'Ferre? It's me... Julien..." he stated, praying Combeferre remembered. _

_"Julien! What happened? And how did we get here?" Combeferre asked frantically moving towards Enjolras. _

_"We walked here from your place, remember? It was the first time I've been able to walk on my leg in weeks, and you had to help me. Remember?"__Worry tugged at Enjolras's heart, he gently put a hand to Combeferre's shoulder. _

_"Your leg!" Combeferre exclaimed. "What happened to your leg? Tell me who did it and I'll kill them myself!" He shouted passionately. __Enjolras paled, more so than he was already, if that's possible, and faced Rene with a horrified face. __"Enj, what's wrong?" Combeferre asked quietly. "And who is he?" Combeferre asked slightly panicking, a shaking hand pointing to Rene. _

"I need to talk to your brother," the captain nodded and stood up. Combeferre jumped up as well.

"Can I see him? I need to see him!" Combeferre insisted, he was almost pleading.

"I suppose so, wait here!" he ordered and left. The door clicked shut and Combeferre sunk back into his seat. Everything was going horribly wrong.

The door clinked open to Grantaire's cell and the same guard as before came in. Grantaire smiled up at his unexpected visitor from under his matted fringe. "The chief and a visitor want to see you. So gotta clean you up first," he commented and Grantaire nodded. The guard pulled Grantaire's fringe back to reveal a fist sized purpling black eye. "The captain hasn't been interrogating you ... What the hell happened?" He asked.  
"It was Boris," he remarked with a shrug and the guard frowned.  
"How do you know their names?" He asked looking confused at Grantaire.  
"Well ... I may, have annoyed some guards in my time," he admitted casually.

"R,Ricard," he moaned and Grantaire winked at him. "You have a visitor today … something about a brother?" he shrugged and Grantaire smiled. So Combeferre had talked himself into a visit; excellent work Lucien. "But the captain needs to interrogate you first," he muttered and Grantaire groaned. The kind guard slowly stood up and loudly knocked on the door. Grantaire sat back casually, successfully ignoring the pain raking down his body. He had to be strong in front of Combeferre. He had to show him that he was confident; maybe lie that he had a plan to get himself out … anything to stop them trying to save him.

The captain strolled in as if he owned the place; the fact he did own the place is not relevant at all. "Your friend could not validate your story!" he shouted and Grantaire frowned. Combeferre had been there. He had been hurt; he had bumped his head. Then it clicked in Grantaire's mind. Combeferre's memory loss. He cursed out loud; he had been an idiot, in the frenzy he had completely forgotten. This could blow his plan out of the water. He had messed up; again he had failed his Apollo. He couldn't even die properly. _Forgive me Apollo!_ He thought with a sigh.

"In the panic I spurted out the first even that came to my mind, that was the most memorable event in my childhood and naturally that flowed first," he replied while mentally praying the captain believed him and didn't have all three of them killed on the spot.

"Tell me what happened afterwards and I will confirm your statements," the man hissed and Grantaire spilled out everything he could remember.

Combeferre breathed deeply waiting outside the cell. His heart fluttered hoping that Grantaire's plans hadn't all caved in around him. Combeferre didn't like what Grantaire was doing but he seemed to have a plan in his head and for once he was inclined to trust the drunkard. It was a strange feeling to be relying on the winecask for something; let alone life and death issues but yet there was nothing else Combeferre could do but pray. The captain stormed out of the door and practically pushed Combeferre in while he was still thinking. Combeferre stumbled but stayed on his feet to the disappointment of the captain that followed him into the room and shut the door with a bang. Grantaire was sat confidently but the doctor in Combeferre could instantly tell how weak he was. "Enjolras, mon petit frère," he murmured sitting on the bed Grantaire was currently handcuffed to.

"Lucien, do not waste your telling me how stupid I was," Grantaire replied harshly and Combeferre sighed.

"This was an idiotic plan but I am pleased that you found it in your heart to save him … I just wish that that didn't mean you had to die," Combeferre admitted and despite the pretence he could tell that they were both speaking the absolute truth.

"I do not wish to die Ferre but it must be done to save an angel," he whispered and Combeferre nodded.

"Do not let them take your pride Ricard," he instructed and Grantaire nodded.

"They may take our lives … but they can never take our freedom," he exclaimed defiantly glaring at the captain. Combeferre smiled and stood up. He jokily saluted Grantaire before being pushed outside.

Enjolras and Courfeyrac were sat huddled together in Combeferre's bed. They hadn't moved since Combeferre had been escorted away and were waiting for him to come back. Neither of them expressed the opinion he might not be coming back but they both definitely thought it. Courfeyrac lightly massaged Enjolras' back to try and relieve some of the pent up tension and anger in the younger blonde. He had not stopped staring at the door since and was shaking more by the minute. As his symptoms matched up with what Combeferre warned him of; Enjolras was going into shock. Courfeyrac didn't know how to stop it or help. All he could do was be there for Enjolras and wait for Combeferre to return. A key clicked in the lock and both men's heart lightened as it opened. "Missed me?" Combeferre asked and was met by and panicked Enjolras jumping on him.

"Don't you dare do that again!" he ordered as strong as his croaky voice could manage.

"I promise mon petit frère," he smiled, "You better not have opened that bag without me."

_**A/N -**_** Anyone notice the Braveheart reference? I am so pleased with myself for fitting that in :) Review if you see!**


	17. Chapter 17

_**30/4/13**_

**Thanks for all your support, I love you guys! Unfortunately chapters will slow down on all my fics for the next 7ish Weeks due to Exam stresses then I am free to write however much I want!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – It is coming now! I swear!

Juliet116 – Your support means a lot to me!

Gh – sozzy? Hope this chapter is better

S.B – Thanks – yeah Ferre got off easy but Taire still has it tough. Long reviews are perfectly fine with me and YAY you noticed my quote … I couldn't resist!

Almost an Actress – That was the end of that chapter but not the whole fanfic I assure you, we still have around ten chapters left to go with this one!

Hedgehog101 – hehe thanks I am glad you enjoy!

Strawberrybear – thanks so much *blushes* I can tell you it would not have ended well if he had forgotten completely.

**Angel**** – your fic is still in the pipeline I am sorry for such a long wait for it but my life is so hectic!**

**Chapter 17**

Enjolras sat back on the bed again and the bag was back on his knee. Enjolras just stared at it as his mind rolled with turmoil; he needed to know what was in the bag but opening it meant accepting that he may not see the cynic again. After a few minutes, the sense of curiosity overcame the opposition and he carefully opened the bag with trembling hands. On the top of a pile of Enjolras' own clothes lay a small folded piece of crushed paper. The note was obviously written on whatever Grantaire happened to have at the time as the back was covered in an artistic scrawl. Enjolras slowly opened it needed to know what Grantaire wanted him to read. _Apollo, if Gav or Courf have given you this then that means my plan come through and everything is as it should be._ Enjolras chocked on his tears; everything is not as it should be, most certainly not. _I had to get you out of there.I couldn't let the marble Apollo be scuffed by those brutes. In this bag are some things I needed to give or return to you. In the base of this bag are some fake papers for you, I had to take yours to pull off this ploy but here are some replacements. _It seemed the cynic had thought of everything; maybe he wasn't as useless as everyone assumed he was. It hurt Enjolras that they had only discovered this when Grantaire was doomed.

Enjolras carried on reading aware that the other men were trying to subtly read over his shoulder. He didn't care, they deserved to know. _Also there are all the clothes I borrowed to decide what would be the most convincing, sorry if anything is ruined or anything. _Enjolras hated himself at that moment. If Grantaire thought some stupid papers and clothes were worth more than his life then Enjolras had obviously been worse to him that he thought. _Also some stuff I rescued from your place. Don't come after me Apollo … or you Fey … or you Ferre cause I know you will be reading this too._ Enjolras felt both men back off but after casting a pleading glance at them; their soothing presence returned behind him. _I don't need saving and if any of you put yourselves in danger for me then it will negate all I have done. All I ask is for you all to stay safe … and don't get yourselves killed. From your cynic. _Enjolras felt emotions boil over inside him but it was as if he was frozen in place; like he was an emotionless marble statue not a human being at all. Emotions hurt and you could be hurt if you showed them; he had learnt from this, don't show what you feel and no-one can use them against you.

He pulled the clothes out and laid them next to him on the bed gently but the contents of the base of the bag were far more interesting. The first book made shock fill his heart; Grantaire had rescued his Fall of Robespierre. Grantaire knew how special that book was to him and he rescued it. He didn't deserve to have a follower as good as him; but yet Grantaire always seemed to be there no matter how badly he was treated.

After placing his precious book next to him and removing a few more clothes, underneath was a book he had never seen before. The black paint was wearing away in places where it had obviously been rubbed or hit. Big sheets of cream paper filled it along with notes, letters, pamphlets, everything crammed into its battered covers. With trembling hands and a nervous curiosity, Enjolras opened the book. Inside was taped another note addressed to Enjolras. _Hello again, I don't want to burden you but in here is everything I treasure. You don't have to read through it … actually I would prefer it if you didn't but I doubt it will stop you. Just keep this safe for me. Goodbye old friend. _Enjolras's mind battled again over whether to read or to lock away but eventually the sense of curiosity prevailed again and he examined the first page.

The first painting he found was shocking in itself. The black and grey merged together creating a dismal scene that he recognised as Grantaire's old street, before he moved out that is. Not a single trace of light pierced the work. Red stood out running down the centre of the street. It didn't take a genius to work out that it was supposed to be a river of blood. The red oozed from under the door of the Grantaire household and formed this river. Grey people walked around it but seemingly I noticing of the atrocity around them. If people didn't know Grantaire this painting could easily be classed as republican; but it wasn't it was true. Grantaire always let his emotions flow in his painting. This was how he let emotions out and the horror was displayed clearly. Enjolras felt tears prick at his eyes as he looked. His usual R was swirled in red ink in the corner along with the date; 1812, he painted this horrid scene when he was seven years old. Seven years old, Enjolras gawped at the work. It was obviously talented for a seven year old but he had always been talented; it was more the horrors he had seen. Enjolras turned it over carefully and he recognised the older Grantaire's slanted scrawl. _Death of Innocence: RIP Eleanor Grantaire 1807-1812_. Tears threatened to flow as the hidden meaning penetrated his mind, a little sister dead;four years old. And he presumed not through normal circumstances. He hurriedly turned the page but this was no better.

The same street was sketched out this time using cheap charcoals instead of the paints on the page previously. But yet on this work there was light. Sat outside the Grantaire household was a boy; a boy shrouded in a halo of brilliant white light. He illuminated everything around him but no one seemed to care but the artist. Dark seemed to radiate from the depressing house and try to crush the light radiating from the young boy. After a few minutes of staring at the painting, it hit him. The figure was him; it was a young Enjolras. He know Grantaire saw him as Apollo but he had never seen his paintings before. Again the signature of a red R stood out in the corner and the date in identical red ink. This one was from a lot later and must have been painted in hindsight. 1823; he would have been eighteen this time. Attached to the back of the painting was an assortment of letters on headed notepaper that Enjolras instantly recognised. It was the Paris-Sorbonne University; the most remarkable art college in France. _Monsieur Nicolas Grantaire, we would like to offer you a place at Pais-Sorbonne next year. I look forward to your response, will you please send us a sample of your work._ Enjolras flicked over to the next letter in curiosity. _The painting you sent us was up to our standards and you have confirmed your place with us, Congratulations._ Enjolras couldn't believe that Grantaire would dare turn down a place at Sorbonne. He just couldn't. The page was turned again. _Dear Monsieur Grantaire, unfortunately we are not able to offer you a scholarship due the level of income of your family. Our scholarships are reserved for people that otherwise would not be able to come and you do not fit into that category. We look forward to seeing you in September._

Everything was starting to fall into place in Enjolras' mind but the next letter confirmed it. _The college is incredibly sorry that you cannot join us this year and hope you will reconsider our offer. We wish you luck with where ever you choose to go, au reviour._ Enjolras looked shocked at the letters; he had always blamed Grantaire for being a drop out. The drunkard had never corrected him. Thoughts and guilt raced through his mind; he and Combeferre could easily have paid for his fees, they could have let him move in with them. But yet Grantaire did not accept charity. He was too proud to ask for money or somewhere to live, it was always temporary. This was all his parents fault; they must have refused to give him the money needed when he moved out, so he couldn't go. The crinkle of paper snapped Enjolras out of his thoughts and he found himself crushing the letter in his hand as the anger poured from him. He would not let this go now he knew. He would never be so ignorant again. Never.


	18. Chapter 18

_**5/5/13**_

**Thanks for the support everyone!**

Sarahmozer – 150TH REVIEW! Thanks a lot and I feel sorry for Enjolras now … but it doesn't get any better!

Darci the Thespian – Maybe he will … maybe he won't

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – No so well actually this chapter is all him!

Almost an Actress – Thanks … it had the desired effect then!

Sarahbob – Thanks mate!

PhoenixGirl97 – but …but, I like killing people

Stagepageandscreen – Thanks I just had to write that idea, my beta provided it and I was just 'damn that's good'

S.B – Thanks, I love exploring people's pasts and I am so happy it wasn't cliché

Guest – Thank you, thank you, thank you. But unfortuantly for the moment that is the end of the sketchbook but it will make a return appearance.

ShootMeNowOrShootMeLater – To begin with … I love your username. And thanks for your review. Taire is known for his drinking but … Love changes everything (sorry that had to be done … I couldn't resist) Thanks for the luck, I am dreading them

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MsTonksLupin – Thanks a lot, studying is hectic for me as well!

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**Wow fourteen reviews, I love you all!**

**Chapter 18**

Early that next morning, everyone was gathered at the Musian. Everyone except one; Grantaire's presence was sorely missed but none more that their blonde leader. He had to free Grantaire; he had to find a way to get him out of the bastille. Papers surrounded Enjolras with maps, plans and scribbed notes as his single-mindedness focused on this one mission. Enjolras roared and threw his pen against the wall in anger. What was he thinking? He could never break anyone out of prison; he couldn't even get people out of la Force let alone the Bastille. Grantaire was the one that always got them out. He was their escape and con artist; and they never thanked him or said how much they valued his help. Enjolras felt like such an idiot. He could still remember the first time Grantaire broke him out of la Force as clearly as if it was yesterday.

"_Tell us what your plans are!" the guard hissed at the blonde tied to the chair. Enjolras had been captured at the last rally the amis organised. _

"_I will never talk to you," Enjolras hissed in response and received another punch to the face for his response. _

"_Take him away, and make him talk," the captain growled as Enjolras was hauled to his feet and taken back to the dark cell he had become accustomed to. The handcuffs returned round his sore wrists and he thumped to the floor. _

"_The boss wants you to talk, and we'll make you talk," the head guard chuckled kicking Enjolras in the stomach, splintering at least one rib. Enjolras screwed his eyes shut through the roaring pain in his torso. _

"_Men, get here now!" a voice roared and the guards reluctantly left Enjolras bound in his cell. The pain spread round his chest and he closed his eyes while he savoured the momentary respite from his interrogation. "Pst, Enjolras," a voice hissed from above him. Stupid imagination; the others would not be able to break in. Plus he had instructed them all not to. "Hey, wake up Apollo," the voice instructed more clearly now. Apollo; only one person called him that. He creaked his eyes open and Grantaire was leaning through a hole in the ceiling. _

"_R? What?" Enjolras asked confused while trying to sit up. The room spun and he fell carelesslyback down onto the floor. Grantaire thumped onto the floor next to him. "Careful Apollo, it will be harder to get you out if you are unconscious," he chuckled as he supported Enjolras onto his feet. A rope hung from the hole in the ceiling and Grantaire helped the weak Enjolras to it and boosted him up so there wasn't much left to climb. Voices shouted outside the cell and Grantaire hurriedly threw Enjolras into the passage above. Enjolras watched as he pulled on a black and gold mask that covered the top half of his face and a thin scarf was draped casually round his neck hiding his tattoo. Grantaire winked to him and threw the rope up and shut the hatch. Enjolras was plunged into darkness but he could still hear everything that was going on below him. "I did not shout you, you idiots he could be gone by now!" the chief screamed as the door flew open. "You again," he hissed and Grantaire laughed._

"_Missed me?" he chuckled._

"_Boss, who's this," one of the lower ranking guards asked cautiously._

"_The _**_Libérateur," the chief hissed._**

**"****_They've given me a name now, I am honoured. Shame you'll never catch me though," he sighed._**

**"****_I have you now; two years, fifty seven breakouts of you and other revolutionaries … and I have you now!" he snarled. Enjolras sat there gawping, Grantaire was the Libérateur. He was the masked vigilante that had been the bane of the National Guard for the past two years._**

"_But do you really have me, my friend should already have crawled out of here and be ready to meet me at our hideout," Grantaire replied and Enjolras knew what he had to do. Enjolras started to crawl towards the outside of the building. A gunshot echoed round followed by a cry of pain, Enjolras stopped instantly. "You'll never catch either of us, we'll just keep crawling away," Grantaire laughed and Enjolras knew he had to keep on moving._

_He crawled and crawled until the sun shone at the outside. Enjolras dropped down the outside of the building. Thankfully, it was only a short fall and he remained on his feet. He stood gawping outside; he had no idea what to do. The panicked silence was broken by shouting from la Force. "Au reviour!" he heard someone should before Grantaire came flying out of a window just below where he jumped from. The drunkard skidded along the ground laughing before he set off running, dragging Enjolras along behind him. "What in god's name just happened?" Enjolras shouted and Grantaire skidded to a halt. "I just broke you out of la Force," he shrugged. Grantaire was using his free hand to hold the side of his stomach. _

"_They shot you," Enjolras stated bluntly. _

"_Just a scratch, you go home and get cleaned up," Grantaire shrugged and disappeared into the alleys._

He had never thanked Grantaire for that day. None of them had ever thanked Grantaire for any of the times he had risked himself for their safety. His nails bit into the flesh of his palm and anger radiated off Enjolras' every pore. He would save Grantaire. He had to.

The light pierced the crushing darkness that surrounded him. The brightness bombarded every one of his senses and crushed his spirit further. This was it. This was the end. Grantaire had thought that at least one of them would try to break him out or even send a message. Nothing ever came. He guessed his message had worked too well then … or they just did not care about the drunkard's fate. The light; light was supposed to be a beacon of hope. This light condemned him to a miserable fate. He would have preferred to rot away in that darkness; the damp darkness he had grown to take comfort in, knowing the light would take everything away from him.

He still did not doubt what he did. It had to be done and he was proud to have eventually done something with his life. He had saved his Apollo; now that was cause worth dying for. Rough hands jerked him to his feet and the marble façade returned. He now knew why Enjolras kept the façade up at all times. It was a comfort and protection against a world that hated people like him. This was one of his final moments. He would stand tall and proud like he had never done in his life. He was pulled to his feet and he stood tall and proud with his hands tied behind his back and a guard on each arm. "You, Ricard Julien Enjolras, are charged with disturbing the peace, conspiracy to commit treason and repetitive break outs from la Force. These are crimes punishable by death by firing squad," the National Guard read out. "You will be executed at oh nine hundred hours," the guardsman read out.

"Ten minutes," one of the other guards whispered in his ear intending to try and make him crack. Ricard Enjolras would never crack … so he wouldn't. He remained stood tall, maintaining the cover, while the man crumbled inside. "Break outs?" Grantaire asked.

"I knew that I recognised you from somewhere," the chief laughed. "I have finally caught you **Libérateur**," he laughed and Grantaire smiled slightly.

"So you do recognise me without the mask," he laughed and was slapped across the face.

"The death of their leader and their masked vigilante … crush the revolution forever," he chuckled. "I am so glad I will never see you again," the man laughed. Grantaire did not want to die. Did anyone ever feel good about themselves when walking to their death? He could not see how Enjolras was willing to die for an ungrateful country that was now trying to end his beautiful existence. But yet, Grantaire willing to die for a man that hated him … maybe they weren't so different in that aspect.

The walk was long and slow; as if it was designed to make you tense and panic. He would not panic. He was Ricard Enjolras; his Apollo wouldn't so he wouldn't. Firing squad wasn't the worst way to go. He would rather not die at all but at least it would be honourable and virtually painless. A good way for his Apollo to pretend to die; that was a weird thought. He was more concerned about Enjolras' image of his fake death, than he was of the standard of his real death. That confirmed it … Grantaire's life was seriously messed up. The dark door loomed ahead. It towered over him; threatening, menacing. It swung open and again the poisonous light blinded him. He had lived in the dark all his life and now the light was to end it all for him. Grantaire was pushed forwards out into the courtyard they had been threatening him with for days. Eight guards lined the wall with their pristine rifles leaning against their legs. Grantaire walked proudly to stand in front of the line. His head held high as the guards let go off his and the firing squad picked up their rifles. He breathed deeply but could not bear to shut his eyes or look away from the eight identical guns. "Any final requests?" the chief asked with a smile.

"Send my body to the Café Musain, my friends will find it there," he requested and the chief nodded.

"Would you like a blindfold?" he asked but Grantaire shook his head.

"I will die facing my foes," he shouted and the men raised their rifles.

"Take aim!" he shouted and everything fell. _Forgive me Apollo,_ Grantaire thought as the world exploded and everything fell black.


	19. Chapter 19

_**14/5/13**_

**Thanks for waiting so patiently after that distressing event but exam stresses have just taken over my world lately and my nervous paranoia surrounding exams has returned with a vengeance. So sorry again!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – It is a very tempting thing to do … you will sway to the dark side my friend. And the body is key to the next instalment

BlueRose98 – Damn right I did! A more awesome Scarlet Pimpernell. Thanks for your support

Stagepageandscreen – Hope this chapter satisfies your curiosity! And nice use of song lyrics there!

Sarahmozer – maybe he will live … maybe he won't … you'll have to read to see! Sorry for the crying

Sarahbob - … I just did

PhoenixGirl97 – sorry babe but it had to be done, it hurt me as well!

Darci the Thespian – Sorry, hope this makes up for it ;)

From Rue with Love – I just have to … it is how my mind works :(

stahp-the-feels – I only saw that when I was writing it and just had to share my insight with my readers

AwesomeReaderAndWriter 357 – Thanks, hope this satisfies your curiosity

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**Two things: One, would you guys like a sequel of this? Two, LETS GET 200 REVIEWS BEFORE THE END! Roughly two or three more chapters left now … enjoy!**

**Chapter 19**

The Musain was quiet. The only sound was the frantic scratching of quill on paper coming from one corner. Enjolras had not eaten or slept since Combeferre had let him out of the apartment the day before. Grantaire being in prison was his fault and there was no way on earth Enjolras was going to let him die for a cause he did not believe in. Maps, notes and random papers were scattered around him, all with notes in his slanted scrawl. No one felt the urge to talk and joke while one of their friends was facing impending doom. Combeferre sat near Enjolras as a comforting presence for his best friend and sort of younger brother. Combeferre knew better than to pester Enjolras to eat or sleep now and for that, Enjolras was glad. He had not been the same since this whole affair started when he said those fateful words _"You don't believe in anything"_. Enjolras still didn't know what he was thinking when those words flew out of his mouth. And now Grantaire was going to die because of them. He never wanted this to happen. What kind of person would he be if he had said he did want this to happen to them all? But he was not going to let this end the way fate seemed to want it to.

Courfeyrac and Feuilly were asleep on a table with blankets surrounding them. All the amis refused to leave the back room of the Café Musain while Grantaire was still in harm's way. Jehan was the only one missing but that was only to go gather supplies and maybe try to find intelligence on the fate of their cynic. Bahorel sat guard by the door but even he was dozing off against the wall. Marius was sat in the corner already completely out and snoring lightly. Soon it was only the two almost brothers that remained in a nervous state of energy. "I have to save him Ferre," Enjolras mumbled, partially for his own benefit.

"I know 'Jolras … we will," he replied with a sigh. However on the inside, Combeferre didn't know what they could do to save him. Security had been doubled and the two of them were clearly being watched by the Surete. Any move that was even slightly suspicious then they would all be joining him in the cells.

Jehan slid into the Musain with tears streaming down his face. Everyone instantly awoke at the sobs of their little poet. "Jehan what's wrong?" Courfeyrac asked, softly; they were all concerned for their youngest member.

"It's Taire," he sobbed onto Courfeyrac's shoulder as he was locked in a friendly embrace. Enjolras froze as he stared at Jehan. "They've killed him, they've gone and killed him," Jehan sobbed and the world seemed to stop in shock. The usually stoic marble statue felt his chest tighten like an iron band was crushing his chest in a tight embrace. He couldn't breathe as shock took control of his body. Tears were falling down his cheeks but no sound or feeling escaped from his broken mind. I couldn't be true … it just couldn't. He could hear people talking but no words reached through the fog that surrounded his mind once again. The only thing that snapped him out of the shocked haze was a national guard's man bringing in a bundle wrapped in a red cloth. Everyone knew what lay under that cloth, but it still tore at his heart to see Grantaire's limp form lain on the table. They had seen him passed out on these tables so many times. But this was in no way the same. And it would never be like that again.

He did not look like the lively vivid Grantaire they all knew, and hated sometimes. He was smaller, thinner and his skin was a ghastly white compared to Grantaire burnt bronze complexion, which never did match with the Parisian weather. Eight bullet wounds stood out a vivid red, matching the striking colours of the fabric he was lain on. At least it looked like the bullets killed on impact; Grantaire had died instantly without pain. That was a slight relief; that he had not suffered at all in his final moments. It was as if the world had stopped still to mourn for the falling of this vibrant spirit. Despite his many flaws, and there were many flaws, Paris would not be the same without him. Nothing would be the same without him. "We will not let him die in vain," Combeferre murmured what they were all thinking. Grantaire died so Enjolras could carry on the cause. So that was what they would do. They would fight in his name.

"Make them pay through the nose," Bahorel growled.

"Make them pay for every man," Courfeyrac agreed. Enjolras had never noticed before how close those three had been. They were brothers in arms, just like he was with Combeferre. He thought about it. Enjolras was certain he would never be able to be as composed as Courfeyrac and Bahorel were, if Combeferre was lying dead on a table. Subconsciously this revelation made him shuffle closer to his older almost brother in comfort.

Enjolras looked up and the National Guard that had carried Grantaire's body in was still loitering in the door way. He was leaning on the doorway, as if he owned the place. An unquenchable anger flooded through Enjolras at the sight of the man that represented the organisation that had killed their friend. The guard stared back at him with muddy brown eyes and a pale pallor that would have been better suited to the dead man on the table. A smirk followed that gaze; that was the final straw for Enjolras' restraint and he leapt away from the table and towards the guard like a predator going in for the kill. "How dare you stay here after your kin killed our friend?" Enjolras yelled with fury radiating off him is vicious waves. For once no one tried to stop his short tempered outburst; they probably wouldn't be able to stop him this time anyway.

"Is that anyway to talk to the man who has saved your friend?" the guard smirked in Enjolras' face.

**Sorry for the short chapter but that cliffhanger had to be written!**


	20. Chapter 20

_**15/5/13**_

**WOW! I have got so many reviews and so many great followers of this story. And personally apologise for the beginning of this chapter but carry on reading …**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – I wanted to watch you guys squirm around for a little bit ;)

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stahp-the-feels – I think that has to be one of my favourite reviews yet hehe

**Chapter 20**

Enjolras froze on the spot in pure shock. "W-what?" he stuttered. This man couldn't be telling them Grantaire was alive. He just couldn't. Grantaire was lying dead on that table; that was a fact. There was no doubt. His heart stopped and the world seemed to stop again. Could Grantaire have really escaped what they all knew was a sealed fate? If anyone could it was the persistent drunkard. His heart swelled with joy. Finally he could reconcile all the atrocious things he had done to the drunkard over the years. He could practically see the reunion between them occurring in front of his eyes. Grantaire would walk in looking like he always did before this all happened. His eyes would twinkle with his typical mischievous glint and his dark curls would flop over his eye slightly like it always did. Then he would say some form of sarcastic/ witty comment like 'missed me?' and wink at them. After that he would sit down at his usual table and brush off any concerns about his health before telling them the epic tale of how he had escaped from the Bastille single-handedly. Everyone would laugh and pretend to go along with his obvious exaggerations. It would probably include unarmed fights and parachuting if it was from Grantaire's imagination

Then Enjolras would sit down next to him and apologise for all that happened between them and ask that they start a fresh. Grantaire would swing back on the chair casually and smile. Of course he would say yes to a new beginning and accept Enjolras' apology. Then they would sit there alone and talk about all the things that had gone wrong in their relationship over the years. There were a lot of things to talk about but they would get it all out in the open to help with their planned new beginning together. Maybe he would even be able to act on the feelings he had formed for the drunkard. Hope blossomed in his chest with these fantasies, but it was crushed as quickly as it came.

"He was living a horrible life. I saved him by ending it painlessly," the guard grinned and Enjolras' spirits sunk to the floor and were replaced with a flurry of pain and anger. Grantaire was dead. It was true … he was dead for ever.

Enjolras' chest tightened with the new found emotions that had been plaguing his mind since he found Grantaire's body all those weeks ago. That disaster seemed a lifetime away but actually it had only been about a month since he had flipped out at the cynic. These emotions and feelings couldn't have appeared in a month; they just couldn't. But yet he was stood there paralysed by the intensity of them swelling in heart and mind. He needed Grantaire back but now he would never be coming back. Enjolras would never get to tell him all the things he fantasised about. He would never get to talk to him again. And it was all that National Guard's fault.

"How dare you say things like that?" Enjolras snarled as the blasphemous guard stalked away. He strolled round the room examining everything in interest.

"I dare say that because I could arrest you all any moment and you can do nothing about. And also because it is the truth … and you know that," the guard stated as the tension in the room grew.

"Don't talk like that about our friend," Bahorel growled while Enjolras was frozen like marble.

"He had no life, you didn't care about him so why keep him alive?" the guard shrugged picking up some of Enjolras' notes. "He was willing to sacrifice himself for you … I just finished the job," the guard simply stated.

"How do you know all this?" Combeferre asked; he was always the rational one.

"I was his prison guard, he cried out some quite incriminating things in his nightmare filled sleep, Enjolras," the man chuckled. Everyone froze; their secret was out but the guard didn't seem to want to arrest them. It was like he only wanted to gloat about it. Enjolras took his first proper look at the man in question. He was certainly haggard; his brown hair was greasy and hung round his ears as if it had not been cut for a long time. A thick stubble lined his jaw line showing the man had not shaved in a few weeks. He was not what you would expect from a cocky National Guards man. "He did not deserve to live … that's why I wielded a gun myself," the man chuckled. Jehan cracked at his words. They had never seen the baby faced poet angry like this before; but Grantaire had always been like the delinquent, but caring, older brother to Jehan. Prouvaire turned like a feisty terrier and ran at the guard punching him in the gut.

The guard recoiled like Jehan's punch was harder than they all knew it would have been. The feisty little terrier still did not waver as he continued shouting abuse at the man. This continued for a few minutes until the Musain fell silent again. Everyone stared at Jehan, wondering what had stopped his outburst. It was even more shocking when the young flower grabbed the guard by the hands, and proceeded to spin him around in a circle. Jehan was grinning and laughing; he was insane, that was the only explanation. To go from shouting foul abuse to laughing while spinning; it was just not right. It just got weirder. Once they had done about fve rotations Jehan skidded to a halt and full on smacked the guard across the face. "You bastard!" he screamed and started pouting.

"Oww!" the guard shouted gawping at Jehan as the little poet hugged him again. Enjolras stared at the mysterious figure. He had no idea what Jehan was so excited about and who this man was. "Has it twigged yet Apollo?" he asked while lifting his head up so finally all the features were visible. It couldn't be … only one person ever called him Apollo. And that person was supposedly lying dead on a table. But yet it had to be him; the wrinkles around his eyes; the shimmering brightness hidden behind their murky exterior. The mischious glint, that Enjolras had sorely missed, returned to his eyes; that little detail seemed to make Grantaire complete again. His thick brown hair curled across his eyes as it always did, just slightly longer this time. The stood with that casual slouch that Joly was always picking up on and critising him for; it was bad for the posture. Enjolras would usually response with 'his posture is beyond hope' but he had never been happier to see that slouch. Even the fake moustache did not take away from the fact that he knew that face. It was a face Enjolras knew well; it was Grantaire, he was alive. The unnamed body on the table was forgotten as he stood in front of what could only be described as a man raised from the dead. Everyone else simultaneously realised the same thing ... as the newly found Grantaire fell forwards and his limp body clattered against the cruel stone tiles that lined the floor.


	21. Chapter 21

_**16/5/13**_

**Wow … thanks again and WE HAVE REACHED 200 REVIEWS WOOP WOOP! *dancing with virtual streamers***

**Also it seems there was a lot of confusion about the ending of the last chapter – it was GRANTAIRE who collapsed not Enjolras!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – It will all make sense in this chapter I swear. And read my authors note to explain the confusion

Almost an Actress – Yay someone got it before it happened, virtual cookie and hug for you ;) Vote 6 for sequel … it looks like this is happening people!

Alix – Nice face ;)

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Sarahmozer – Thank you *bows*

Stagepageandscreen – Well thank you then ;) Grantaire fainted, not Enjolras and I hope this satisfies your curiosity

lovelesmis24601 – Yeah … Ch18 was pretty hard hitting

stahp-the-feels – Well thank you that was the intended reaction!

PhoenixGirl97 – Well that chapter had the desired effect then *rubs hands together evilly* and I do not have any prewritten chapters

S.B – Sozzy … don't have a heart attack or anything please

**Chapter 21**

"Get him on his back, quickly!" Joly yelled, snapping Enjolras out of his paralysis. Grantaire had just sauntered back into their lives and now he was laid on the floor hardly breathing. Enjolras jumped to action and gently rolled Grantaire onto his back. They pulled off the jacket to get better access to Grantaire's heart to see what was wrong. It didn't need a doctor to see what was wrong; around the waistband of Grantaire's trousers was a massive, ever growing, blood stain. That was not a safe amount of blood to have outside your body. Joly reappeared and stripped the leather off his body and gently prised the trousers off the wound. Enjolras almost retched when he saw the blood still seeping out of a bullet hole in his hip. He heard Joly murmur to himself and instantly knew this wasn't good. "The bullet is lodged in his hip. If he hadn't have walked about after this then we might have been able to get it out simply," he explained to Combeferre.

"How was he even on his feet?" Combeferre mumbled and tears welled up in Enjolras' eyes again. This was all too much for him. It was impossible how one stupid mistake could cause all this hurt and heart ache. He just wished that they could all go back to that day and fix everything.

Grantaire was moaning in his state of almost unconsciousness, everytime Combeferre moved his body slightly. Enjolras couldn't bear to see Grantaire like this but yet he couldn't bear to move away from his friend's side. If Grantaire ever did need the marble revolutionary, then this was certainly the time. According to Joly and Combeferre, they should be able to get the bullet out but it would put the drunkard through a lot of pain. Also the longer they waited the more pain it would be, so that was how Enjolras found himself squeezing the drunkard's hand as they laid him on a white sheet on one of the multitude of tables. The other body had been moved from sight by some of the other amis and it wwas unsettling to think that soon the dead body on the table could actually be Grantaire's. Enjolras shook that thought out of his head as they started the incredibly painful procedure. He had been told to stop Grantaire moving and try and calm him down; that proved to be harder than it looked.

And that was how he found himself straddling Grantaire, pinning both his arms to the hard table and rambling nonsense in his ear to try to distract him from the pain in his hip. "Hey R, stay with me now. Don't think about it, focus on me. How about we talk about the past. The good old times," Enjolras wittered frantically as Grantaire stared at him with his brown eyes; sunken, full of pain and sorrow. Enjolras almost couldn't bear to look into those eyes but he needed to maintain contact. Soon after, he was blurting out what he remembered of his first meeting with the Grantaire child.

_Enjolras had never had a real childhood. His parents were dedicated to him learning and becoming an upper class child. Plus there was always a risk that if their son had friends then they may learn of the abusive father. Enjolras leant never to question this decision his parents made as soon as he was old enough to meet other children. The only child they ever approved of their angel child meeting was Lucien Combeferre from over the road. He was a year older than their Ricard and the perfect role model for him to grow up with. They were best friends from the age of three but when Enjolras was six, Combeferre had to start visiting his other house in Marseilles every summer. Whenever Combeferre was away, Enjolras found himself desiring the comfort of other children his age not the books he was forced to read inside. He would never go far enough to say that he was a sociable child but when one summer day he happened to look out of the window and see a boy about his age sat on the side of the road outside his house, then the young Enjolras could not resist going to say hello. _

_His mother was out and his dad had drunk himself to unconsciousness so there was no one too stop him from meeting this new boy. Enjolras pulled on his hat and coat and hurried out the door before the boy could leave; not that he showed any signs of moving. People walked around him like he was never there; the few people who did notice him either gave him a wide berth or went out of their way to knock the little boy over. But he still refused to move; he just ignored them and continued to sit wherever he wanted to sit. Enjolras jogged over, dodging and ducking through the manic crowds, until he sat down next to the boy. "Hello," Enjolras chirped smiling at him. The boy smiled weakly but returned his gaze back to the pavement._

"_Hello," he mumbled not lifting his head from the floor; it was as if the boy hadn't really looked at him at all. Now that was something Enjolras was not used to. His mother had always told him that he was seen as 'traditionally handsome' with his perfectly flawless skin, symmetrical face and blonde curls that he wore at even this young age. Although he hated the description, it did get him noticed; and if there was one thing Enjolras hated it was not being noticed. And that was exactly what was happening then, he was not being noticed. From that point onwards, Enjolras became determined that this mysterious young boy would notice him._

_Enjolras looked down and saw the boy drawing on the road with a white stick. Enjolras never was competent in the knowledge of childhood games but this one did not look very fun to him. "What are you doing?" Enjolras asked and the boy still did not look up at him._

"_Jus dwaring," the boy shrugged and continued with his picture on the uneven cobbles. Enjolras took the time to examine the drawing. It was magnificent; that moment was when Enjolras had first found out about Grantaire's outstanding ability. With just a chalk, the boy had drawn a realistic interpretation of a crying angel; he had shaded it in with the white to create and contrast between light and dark. Even the non-artistic young Enjolras had to admire it for its beauty. "You are really good," Enjolras remarked and he spotted the boy's hidden face blush slightly at the compliment._

"_Tanks," he nodded and finally looked up. Enjolras revelled in his victory as the rosy cheeked child looked up at him with awe and adoration. Little did the young Enjolras this victory would end with a lifelong adoration and the creation of what had to be the most annoying man alive but also an integral part of Enjolras' life._

"_What's your name, mines Ricard Enjolras?" Enjolras asked bluntly and the smaller boy looked down at the floor again as he was addressed._

"_Nicolas Grantaire but every'un calls me Lil Grantaire or R," the boy murmured._

"_Why Little Grantaire?" Enjolras asked, curious about the boy who he hoped would become his second friend._

"_Cause I te youngest in me family, smallest Grantaire," he replied, utterly engrossed in the cobblestones._

"_I'll just call you Grantaire then because I don't know the rest of your family," Enjolras nodded. "You can call me Enjolras if you want," he grinned but the smile was not mirrored on Grantaire. "Why won't you look at me R?" Enjolras asked pouting slightly and the boy jumped._

"_Papa says dat I should neva look diwectly at de upper class," Grantaire explained in his uneducated, heavily accented Parisian tone. Enjolras frowned at him._

"_Why would he say that? Everyone should be allowed to be friends with whoever they want to be friends with," Enjolras questioned but was just met with a shrug._

"_When I am older I will make it so everyone can look at and be friends with whoever they want to!" he shouted passionately, his bright blue eyes twinkled with emotion. _

"_Do yu want to be ma fwend?" Grantaire asked, his eyes slightly hopeful and Enjolras nodded. Grantaire smiled at him, showing his slightly crooked but surprisingly pristine white teeth, that was apart from his two front teeth obviously missing. That moment sat on the street outside a tall Parisian style house, a friendship was formed that through thick and thin, for better and for worse, would last them a life time._

Grantaire was looking up at Enjolras with a slight smile, sort of wince as the pain somehow died down. Combeferre was in the process of pulling the bullet out but now it was dislodged the pain was obviously lesser. "I-I did't thinnk yooou re-remembered dat day," Grantaire hissed and stuttered through gritted teeth.

"Of course I remember," Enjolras protested before Grantaire let out another almighty cry of pain as the bullet finally was out of Grantaire's body. Blood was still pouring out with both Joly and Combeferre made quick work of that. Soon it was all bandaged up and Enjolras could finally jump down from on top of the table. He was surprised the table could hold two fullgrown men for that long … actually, the tables had been though much worse. Within seconds of Enjolras' feet hitting the floor, Grantaire was out cold and snoring softly like he always used to do. Enjolras sighed in relief and ran his trembling hand nervously through his hair. "'Horel, Fey … would you mind helping me get him home?" Enjolras asked the two men and they instantly agreed.

**One more chapter left to go where we find out how Grantaire broke out of prison, and what the situation now is between our two favourite characters! This will be finished by the end of the week!**


	22. Chapter 22

_**17/5/13**_

**This mes amis … is the final chapter; the place where all your questions are answered and all loose ends are tied up in a nice little bow. Enjolras and Grantaire have been though a lot and it has changed them both. This chapter is a nice little fluffy ending between the two before the disasters of the sequel. Yes I said it … There is defiantly going to be a sequel (I have it all planned out ;))! Let's try and get to 225 reviews before I start the sequel guys!**

ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo – All your questions will be answered in this chapter I swear! And glad you loved the fluff.

lovelesmis24601 – There is certainly going to be a sequel and probably this is going to end up as a trilogy!

EmmaLaird – Thanks so much! I'll see you at the sequel then?

AwesomeReaderAndWriter 357 – Be happy in the knowledge they have come out of this alive and at the fact, it does not gets easier for them in the sequel!

Darci the Thespian – Don't be scared to be happy!

Almost an Actress – All your questions will be answered with plenty of shipping in this chapter!

messed up stargazer – Aww thanks so much … people enjoying my work is what matters and it feels great to her it from you!

lovinglolipop0402 – Thanks so much I so glad you are enjoying this

TotaltotheMax – Yes you can sigh in relief now … until the sequel MUHAHAHAHAHA!

Noroell – Hope you like this chapter and there will be a sequel!

PhoenixGirl97 – Thought you might like that ;)

**Chapter 22**

Enjolras refused to leave Grantaire's side. He sat with him for hours. He stayed when the only light that could be found was the dull glimmering from the starry night sky. The bells had just chimed midnight when the heroic drunkard awoke from his forced sleep. To say he looked better would be an understatement; he looked nothing like the cocky National Guard that had sauntered into the café hours previously. "How are you feeling?" Enjolras asked cautiously as Grantaire stretched out his stiff muscles.

"A lot better," he nodded with a weak smile cast at Enjolras. "You didn't have to stay up," he quickly added as a back-hand way of showing his appreciation towards the revolutionary.

"I did," Enjolras nodded. "I was worried about you," he added with hesitance. Enjolras could see Grantaire holding back some form of witty response; usually he would scorn whatever came out of the drunkard's mouth but for once Enjolras found himself wanting everything to go back to how it used to be. He was comfortable with how everything used to be.

"How did you escape the Bastille anyway?" Enjolras asked once Grantaire had finally manoeuvred himself into a move comfortable sitting position without damaging his hip event further. "And who shot you?" he added as an afterthought. Enjolras felt this overwhelming and irrational desire to hurt whoever dare to hurt his Grantaire. _His Grantaire … where did that come from? It's not like I own him or something._ Enjolras shook that worrying thought out of his mind as Grantaire started talking.

_As soon as the guns fired, Grantaire was flung back with the impact. He had made sure that during his stay they had not changed his clothes or searched him at all. Even though that meant giving up all weapons or chance of escape that may present themselves; before that moment it is. Underneath the torn red jacket and the no longer white shirt, which had thankfully remained in one piece, a large leather chest piece was firmly taped to his torso. It was that simple piece of thick leather that had saved his life. Yes he had worn that just in case a situation arose such as this; but the odds were certainly not in his favour. There were so many things that could go wrong but thankfully everything played into his hands. Only one thing went wrong, one of the nine firing squad members was a horrible shot. The bullet completely missed his leather protection and embedded into his hip bone. At least that was a slight benefit because that meant if they looked then blood would be coming out of him. Then it was time for the hardest part._

_He had arranged with a guard for the swap. Quite a few National Guards had lost to him in various games and he had quite a large book of debtors that were perfectly happy to help him escape. He picked the most trustworthy and they were set. That guard would take Grantaire's body away while he pretended to be dead. Actually, no pretending was needed; he cracked his head on the hard floor when the bullets hit. Grantaire was painfully out cold while the swap was taking place; which did present a problem for the next stage. Eventually the guard managed to wake him up but they had not thought about bringing any medical supplies with them. Dreadful oversight on Grantaire's part. So they had to quench the blood streaming from his throbbing hip and pounding head before he slid into a spare guard's uniform. Blood was spreading through the fabric but it could not be seen at the moment thankfully. His disguise was masterful and none questioned the mysterious guard charged with carrying the revolutionary's body. The body was a different question entirely; they had to find someone that looked like Grantaire that either had similar wounds or they could shoot. When the body was found, Grantaire's role came to the front. The easiest way for him to get back to his friends was taking the body. He managed to slip out without any alarm bells ringing out. After that it was smooth sailing back to the Musian. _

Enjolras was smiling at Grantaire's story but he could help feeling distraught inside. Grantaire had not expected to live. He had been perfectly willing to die for his 'Apollo' and the plan that came to action was only a backup in case there was a tiny chance he could possibly live. That hurt. The fact that Grantaire did not care about his own life; he should care about his life. Enjolras cared about Grantaire's life. _Since when? Since … all this! And also since when did I argue with myself in my head? Since … all this!_ Enjolras was pulled out of his mental dialogue by the feeling of Grantaire's eyes boring into his skull. "What's wrong Apollo?" Grantaire asked, wincing as he moved to quickly. Enjolras sighed preparing a lie to feed to the winecask but he couldn't lie to those eyes. In moments like this, Grantaire took on a childlike innocence which made you either want to slap him for manipulating your emotions or hug him because he was so damn adorable; no one could lie when faced with the puppy dog look shimmering through his twinkling brown irises. "I don't want you to die!" he blurted out before his mind knew what was happening. Once the mental dam surrounding his emotions had been breached, everything came to the front. "I don't want you to die! I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for me because I am mostly certainly not worth you losing your life over. I am sorry for all the things I said; I really am … but that was just my way of distancing us because I didn't want to acknowledge the feelings I had towards you. I'm only telling you now because of how it affected me when I thought you were dead," the words flew out of Enjolras' mouth without a thought to how to say it or whether this was the right time to confess his heart's secrets to the injured hero. "I love you Grantaire and I cannot hold it in anymore, I feel as if it is eating me up from the inside and I hope you still love me like I love you because if you don't then I …" Enjolras had not noticed Grantaire's slow movements until the drunkard's lips where upon his own. _Well … that answered my question,_ Enjolras thought with a childlike glee as he pushed himself closer to Grantaire. Unsuprisingly, Grantaire's lips tasted of alcohol like he always imagined but what was more entrancing was his smell. You would think that someone like Grantaire would smell of smoke and booze but he didn't; Grantaire smelt of paint and mint. It sounds like a strange combonation but on the drunkard it was natural; it smelt right, like that was the smell of Grantaire. They slowly and cautiously broke apart as Enjolras' heart thumped inside his ribcage like it never had before. Grantaire grinned at him with that smile that usually accompanied the glee when Grantaire was noticed or had managed to beat Enjolras in a battle of wits.

Enjolras could not resist tasting his Grantaire again; and this time Grantaire was certainly his. Enjolras pressed his lips against Grantaire's again and this time wrapped his slender arms around Grantaire's neck to anchor himself closer to the love of his life. Grantaire caught on and pulled Enjolras closer onto the bed by wrapping his arms around Enjolras' waist and lifting him next to him. Soon the duo found themselves curled up with Enjolras on Grantaire's uninjured side; the blonde was latching onto the larger man as if he was scared that if he let go then Grantaire would disappear again. "I love you so much," Enjolras whispered as he drifted between the land of the living and the land of dreams. Grantaire's grin grew and he ruffled the blonde curls he loved so much as his Apollo drifted to sleep. "I love you too," Grantaire whispered as he followed his love into sleep's warm embrace.

THE END

**Excuse me while I go cry to myself. I feel so emotional at the end of this. Without My Apollo's Love was my first ever Les Miserables fic and I have to admit that this is the best I have ever written. Any writers out there will know that finishing a fic you have loved from start to end is emotional. I feel as if it is a child I have nurtured since it was born and now it is leaving home … I am so proud of what it has grown up to be but I don't want it to go. I will admit that this fic has not ended in anyway like I planned it to and for that I am glad; WMAL has taken me on a ride like it has taken you. Now it is time for the overdue thank yous. Thank you to my outstanding beta and great friend Ellie; she has been there with me through thick and thin and if it wasn't for her I probably would never have finished this. Next, thank you to my English teacher Mrs Fielding … it felt so good to hear that a teacher and the person that helped you to write thinks your work is good, thanks for everything Miss! Last but certainly not least … thanks to all of you readers and reviewers! If this had not got the support it has then I would never have stuck with this through my major mood swings and immense urge to procrastinate! The reviewers have lightened my spirits on some really tough days when it got so hard to write and I hope you have enjoyed. Please review to say if you have like this as a whole, they make me feel great inside and I will know it has not been a waste. I am seriously almost in tears now so I better stop before I cry my heart out. Just … thank you again and keep an eye out for the sequel, If That Is My Apollo's Wish … au revoir mes amis!**


	23. SEQUEL!

_**14/6/13**_

Hello again avid readers! THE TIME HAS COME! I have just published the sequel to Without My Apollo's Love. It is called If That Is My Apollo's Wish and is in both the plays and books sections again for you all. So JOURNEY FORTH … and read the first chapter. Please leave me a little review to show you have made it. Thanks!

If any of you are new readers or not fully gripped by this series then here are a few tempters for the sequel: All is not well between Enjolras and Grantaire. More prison time and attempts at daring rescues. Their history is explored in far more detail with guest appearances from the Grantaire's and Enjolras' parents. Eponine makes her first appearance for all you Eponine fans … AND MORE JEHAN! Plus an unexpected happy twist in the relationship between Enjolras and Grantaire. Hooked yet?

So go! And I will see you there,

Guineamania, your friendly neighbourhood writer


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